
:i. 



O '*>'5S?.<^><5>.^<*^^.<JK.'!*><^, «^><^.<j»^..-^<!^,^><^« <«l>^fe,'*!fe,l^l,J) 



POEMS 



SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION, 



WUJ.IAM JOHNSTON HUTCHINSON. 



--^gK^KJi^ — 



N F. W Y (.) R K : 
1876. 






'^ 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, 

By William Johnston Hutchinson, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



EVENING POST PRESSES. 



T O 



|lan |. jfinckt. 

Whose word of kind encouragement 

was a timely offering, 
this volume is gratefully inscribed, 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Alcibiadks' Soliloquy . , . . . . (u; 

Antony's Lamext OVER Cesar . . . 16 

Alone ......... »20 

Asleep . . . . . . 41 

Along the Stream 49 

Atesha 71 

Arsinoe ......... IBY 

Alth^a and Marigold . .182 

A Thoughtless, Bitter Word . . .113 

A Trifle it was, as Light as the Air . . 147 

Berenece 74 

Belated ........ 108 

Bedouin Robber and Steed . . . . .119 

Canst Thou Forget ? 88 

Down where the Sea and Rivers Meet . .13 

Deus ! Meus ! 25 

Death of Julian Chlorus . . .87 

David and Absalom 125 

Echo 69 

Ethel . 75 

Epigram 142 

Exquisite Draperies Hanging IN the West . 172 



COXTENTS. 



Faltering 

Hollywood 

Hymn- .... 

Invitatiox to ^'Eneas . 

Tn Rkmembraxce 

Invocation- to Poluymnia 

I AM Dying, Egypt, Dying 

La Fleur .... 

Lines to the Alabama Rivek 

Li.NEs : The Sense ok DE.\Tn 

Little Maid of Anglesey 

Love's Index 

Lily of the Valley 

Lake and Wild-Fowl 

My Argosies . 

Motherless 

;M ESS AGES 

My Mate and I . 

Mar.iorie 

On Concluding Cicero 

On Concluding Gibbon's History 

Ode: Horace; On Contentment 

Ode: Horace; To Thaliarchus 

Ode: Horace; To Quintus Dellius 

Ode : Horace ; To Licinius . 

Ode: Horace; To Grosphus 

Ode : Horace ; On His Own Works 

Ode : Horace ; Civil War 



PA«;R 

155 

42 

180 

90 

. Ill 

186 

. 175 

93 

94 

187 

. 97 

117 

. 133 

193 

. 30 

36 

, 51 

149 

. 114 

77 

i I 

IfiO 
. 163 

164 
. 166 

170 
. 174 

178 



CONTENTS. 



Ill 



PAGE 

Out on the Mystic Sea ...... 168 

O, FLY THOSE MuSK'-nREATHlNG HaLLS ! . 116 

Pai!Samas ........ 78 

Sonnet: To My Sister . . . .106 

Sonnet: January ....... 183 

Sonnet: To , with the Odes of 

Pindar 185 

Sonnet: To Edna ....... 124 

Sonnet: There is an Attribute . . . 135 

Sonnet: When on My Brief Existence . 140 

Sonnet: Come, Doubter ..... 143 

Sonnet: Mine Ears Drink in .... 144 

Sonnet: To Julia . . .146 

Sonnet: And had I Planned . . . .156 

Sonnet: The Assyrian Monarch . 15*7 

Sonnet: The Sunburst ...... 177 

Sunshine in Winter ...... 129 

Song: Knight of the Twelfth Century . .188 

The Pilgrim ....... 1 

The Language of the Sea ..... 7 

The Evening Walk ...... 9 

The Invitation . . . . ,11 

The Lost Treasure . . . . . • 21 

The Revellers ....... 27 

The Wager ....... 32 

The Fortunate Isles of the Blessed . .34 

The Sacrilege of Alaric ..... 44 

The Pleixje 4 8 



iv CONTENTS. 






page 


The Fog-Bell 


55 


The Death of the Oriole 


. 57 


The Cape of Storms .... 


60 


The Recluse 


. 62 


The Twilight Hour .... 


92 


The Complaint . . 


. 96 


The Failure 


101 


The Star of Friendship .... 


. 107 


The Changing of the Tides 


. 109 


The Watcher 


. 121 


The Anadem 


. 131 


The Matins Bell 


. 141 


The Burial of Pizarro 


151 


The Dreamers . . ... 


. 158 


The Hours 


. 175 


The Battler 


. 189 


The Battle-Field .... 


194 


To the Robin 


. 10 


To My Sister . . . , . 


15 


To a Friend 


. 28 


To Philomel 


72 


To Brother 


. 99 


To Mysie 


136 


To a Sunbeam 


. 145 


Theodora 


58 


Tell Me, Good Lady-Mother, Why 


. 104 


Unreconciled 


184 


Venus is again the Evening Star . 


. 6 


Would Day were Come . . . . 


24 



POEMS. 



THE PILGRIM. 



ARGUMENT. 



A would-be pilgrim leaves his humble home, and is 
by inspiration led to a mountain top. He sees the fair 
earth spread before him, and, reading its history as in 
a picture, becomes unwilling to mingle in such scenes. 
Saddened by the character of man as there depicted, 
but soothed by Nature's charms and lovely examples, he 
retraces his steps irresolutely homeward. 



■-EHOLD some toil-stained pilgrim leav: 
!>s his cot, 

fe Eesolved to slmn forever his hard lot 




^s^ And speed, Avith quickening steps, forth 

&;!» from the vale 



That hears the roar, but 'scapes the 
wintry gale, 

On toward the mountain's base ; nor feels the darts 
That flaming downward come. Nay ! it imparts 



2 POEMS. 

A new-born vigor to his feet. He'd gain 
Yon mountain tojD while daylight's charms yet 
reign. 

Upward he jjants. There, dimly in the skies, 
He sees the rock toward which his wistful eyes 
A thousand times in boyhood's years have 

turned, 
And kindled in his breast the fire that burned 
Thro' all the weary, seeming endless years, 
Nor ceased to smolder, tho' a flood of tears 
Had there its angry surges vainly rolled 
To staj^ the flame he fain would have controlled. 

Thus doth he climb the chamois' rocky track, 
Nor stays an instant to look quicldy back ; 
For not until he gains yon dizzy height 
Would he desire to \iew the wondrous sight : 
Then, then, in one intoxicating draught, 
Its pleasing aspects may be deeply quafft. 
Chasms may yawn and towering crags may mock. 
What cares he now ? his feet have gained the 

rock ; 
And, with a wistful cry, to view the world 
He lifts his eyes — and, lo ! it lies unfurled 
In one long pageant, one unbounded page. 
As told in words and verse from age to age. 



THE PILGRIM. 3 

His eyes seek first the spot where man drew 

breath, 
And tell his heart how quickly man courts death ; 
Not on himself the load of ruin bears, 
But bows his kind through all the course of 

years. 
He sees the lands with peoples multiplied ; 
He sees the arm that iDlaced them there defied ; 
He hears His servant plead ; no longer urge, 
But dreadful silence reigns ; the boisterous surge 
Sweeps down o'er all. Fair Nature's dark'ning 

face 
Hath not a smile for one of all that race. 

He looks again, and other nations rise 
On Asia's plains, 'neath Egyj^t's cloudless skies. 
Uncounted hosts in glittering war's array 
Make death their trade — a monarch's voice obey 
To spoil a peaceful land, or ruthless sweep 
With deeds of blood that make bright angels 

weep ; 
And they, in turn, a satrap's chains to feel, 
Sesostris' line crushed 'neath the Persian's wheel ; 
They then to yield to crushing conquest's blight, 
And feel with Athens Macedonia's might 
For one dire instant — then to cast their charms 
Without one cry to Roma's conquering arms. 



4 rOEMS. 

On come the ages. Now a ruthless host 
Steals from its barren home, stern Scythia's 

coast, 
With dread destruction loosened in its train — 
Each home to sack, each palace deeply stain ; 
And nearer yet, — when Christian nations rise, 
With History's page to teach them to despise 
Such fearful arts, — yet ever will pursue 
With fiendish cries war's way, and still renew 
The senseless struggle that with glory crowned 
Fair Fortune's guests, while woes their millions 
drowned. 

But now he turns from mankind's endless 

crimes, 
And views with swelling joy the beauteous 

climes 
That picture all the earth. Majestic forms arise. 
Of sombre hue ; but, as they pierce the skies, 
Reflecting gems flash back the rays of fire, 
And bathe his soul in transports of desire. 
The grand old Ocean, breaking on the shore. 
The old, old tale repeating o'er and o'er 
Of secrets kept deep down within its breast ; 
Of forms held dear, forever laid to rest ; 
Of some fair island, laved by summer seas. 
Where sea-nymphs' tresses flutter in the breeze. — 



THE PILGRIM. 5 

The distant river, silver-sparkling thread, 
Brings quick delight, as, swiftly in its bed 
It pours along with ceaseless, noiseless motion 
To i3ay its tribute to unbounded ocean. 
Doth it not teach of life ? A joyous thing 
It seeks the light — 'tis then a feeble spring, 
But downward seeks its course, and grows 

apace, 
And in an hour enters for the race 
A generous rival, then a mighty power 
That makes its path at will, and every hour 
Bears on its bosom fruit for good or ill, 
Blesses the land — or curses by its will. — 
And then the beautous flowers that deck the 

field ! 
No human art can such pure rapture yield : 
See, how they bloom in every opening dale ! 
See, how they kiss the soft, caressing gale ! 
Ah, how the heart is cheered, if it but trace 
These tinted smiles on Nature's lovely face ! 

The pilgrim sought with calm and thoughtful 
mien 
His homely cot, and left the glorious scene 
For other eyes than his ; and softly sighed : 
O beauteous earth ! O darkening human tide ! 



POEMS. 



How joyous is the scene iu all thy lands ! 
Ami all thy woes are born of human Lauds ! 
The time-worn wrecks along thy paths I trace 
Bleach there thro' man's unldndness to his race, 



~--K><2^^s^>0^ - 




VENUS IS AG.ilN THE EYEXIXG STAE. 



HOU fairest orb of all the night, 
We welcome thine effulgent ray, 
That holds in chains the waning light, 

And bids night's shades away. 
"With softest liame, sweet Venus, rise 
To reign the queen of western skies ! 



For thee we've sighed, when to adorn 
The eastern skies thou wast enstalled, 

And with thy splendor lit the morn, 
And shone on eyes enthralled ; 

Forerunner of the king of day 

Whose fiery fiood usurped thy sway. 

Now dost thou follow in his train, 
Tho' but to linger one brief hour. 



THE LANGUAGE OF THE SEA. 

Wliat rival sliall thy beauty Avane 

Or spoil thee of thy dower ? 
With rapturous joy by mortals seen 
Thou floatest there, i)ure, radiant queen ! 

Venus, thou loveHest Evening Star ! 

How c;an we ever say farewell ? 
Never forgotten, tho' afar ! 

Long we for thy magic spell. 
Fair lamp of eve, there calmly rest ; 
Shed joy and peace to every breast ! 



<-^^x:>iii?|)iS2>>[>^ - 



THE LANGUAGE OF THE SEA. 

^^.INGING, singing one refrain ! — 
Tell me, ever changing sea, 
What so oft I've asked in vain — 

Break the secret now to me. 
Flowing, flowing to the shore, 

From some lonely, far off clime, 
Here thine ebbing life to pour 
Li unceasing, saddening rhyme. 
Sighing, sighing ever so ! — 
Do the memories till thy breast 




POEMS. 

Of some deep lagoon where flow 
Emerald floods o'er coral crest ? 

Swelling with the monsoon's wrath, 
Of some vast and sparkling ocean, 

On thy solitary j^ath 

Wafted with unheeded motion. 

Tell me, too, of pitiless storms, 

Wlien, beneath the blackening skies 

Lift thy waves in giant forms 
As resistless whirlwinds rise. 

Sweei^ing o'er many a nameless grave- 
Trophies to thy i^ower and might ; 

O'er the fairest and the brave. 
Who embraced thee with affright. 

O, thou deejD, mysterious sea ! 
Coming now and now receding — 

Secret none I'll win from thee. 

Whisper none save thy sad pleading ! 



-^^0<5-^roo{>^^ 



THE EVENING WALK. 




THE EVENING WALK. 

HEN twilight's softest breezes gently 
rise, 
Bearing upon their course the clouds 
of fire, 
And rarest, golden tints stain o'er the 
skies. 
What peaceful, pensive moods the 
heart inspire ! 

When twilight's shades anon come softly stealing. 
How soothing then, alone, to walk abroad. 

While Nature sleeps, her every charm revealing, 
Soon wins the weary heart to true accord. 

When twilight's darkening pall at length descend- 
ing, 
Displays the glittering treasures of the night, 
Of orbs and constellations never ending, 

How bows the heart before His power and 
might! 

May that long twilight, ever nearing, nearing, 
Glow with rich hues of hopes divinely fair ; 

May that last, dark, mysterious pall, when clearing. 
Show Thy bright, guiding presence waiting 
there. 




TO THE ROBIN IN APRIL. 

^^...^ 

SWEET robin redbreast ! 

Thy blithesome note I 
hear, 
A welcome, welcome sound 
Delights my listening ear; 
And tells of dreary winter past, 
And blooming spring time come 
at last. 

O sweet 1*0 bin redbreast ! 

Each morning let thy voice 
Pour forth its hymn of praise. 
And with my own rejoice. 
The Prince of Spring-time, young and fair, 
Hath strewn his treasures everywhere ! 

O sweet robin redbreast ! 

Let not the icy air 
Subdue thy swelling song, 
Nor lead thee to despair ; 
With rich profusion, leaf and flower 
Will soon perfume thy hidden bower. 



THE IN VI TA Tin N. 

() sweet robin redbreast, 

How sweet thy ringing strain ! 
It seems to tell of clouds dispelled 
And sunshine come again : 
It seems to say, with tuneful art, 
The dawn is near ; up, drooping heart ! 



THE INVITATION. 

ed by Coriuna going a-ma 
OME, up my love ! 



(Suggested by Coriuna going a-maying.) 




And quickly don 
Thy field attire ; 

For, grandly on 
That steed of fire. 
The sun, ascends 
above. 

For shame ! sweet sluggard, banish hurtful sleep, 
And drink of Nature's nectar long and deep ! 

Stay not, but up ! 

These gems of dew, 
Like diamonds rare, 

Are known to few ; 



12 POEMS. 

Yet, jewel ue'er so fair 

E'er shone in crown or cup. 
On morning glory's bell securely clinging, 
Wherever violet banks are coyly springing ! 

Haste ! love, across 

Thro' field and fold, 
In dark, wild wood. 

With spots of gold ; 
As conquerors should. 

We'll rest on throne of moss. 
For thee a crown I should be weaving now, — 
The fairest ever pressed thy golden brow ! 

Then haste, my love ! 

Too quickly fly 
Life's rosy hours ; 
Too quickly die 
Dew drops and flowers ; 
Too soon the steed's above. 
Then haste, O, haste, dear love, we'll seize each 

prize 
Of May-morn, field, and happy, blushing skies ! 



--K>K2^P=M5Hg^ — 



DOWN WHERE THE SEA AND RIVERS MEET. 13 



DOWN WHEEE THE SEA AND KIVEKS 
MEET. 



^ KNOW a secret shore — and low. 
Sequestered and well loved re- 
treat ! 
Tis there the rippling wavelets 
flow, — 
Down where the sea and rivers 
meet. 




m 



You'd say a spot so drear— apart, 
So wild, companionless — alone, 

Possessed no sweet, seductive art, 
No gentle language of its own. 

Oh, yes ! and often I have brought, 

From hurrying throngs, oppressing cares. 

And told them there, and there been taught 
Content e'en fitful ocean shares. 

The ocean ! unalloyed delight 

To note each varying phase and change 
Its face portrays, of shade or light. 

As zephyrs sweep or cloudlets range. 



II 



14 



POEMS. 



I love it for the friends I've made , 

The laughing wave, and dark browed rock 

In dripping robes of moss arrayed, 
Secure from ocean's every shock. 

There, too, the sea-gull's jjiping notes 
Give to the waves a plaintive strain, 

As homeless on the gale she floats. 
Or bosoms on the treacherous main. 

Far distant be the unwelcome lot 

That bars from thence my hastening feet ! 
And may their imprints vanish not, — 

Down where the sea and rivers meet. 



-<^0<2a^^Oo{>^->^ 



TO MY SISTER. 



TO MY SISTER. 

^^^\i H ! sister sweet, e'er long to greet 
III'' An absent one with fondest word 
'^-^ Thine own kind smile will soon 




begnile 
A heart with joyous visions stirred. 

By love made bright, in quick delight 
Thine eyes will beam for me once 
more, 
E'en as some ray, si:)ed on its way, 
Proclaims the wanderer's voyage o'er. 

What welcome cheer thy voice to hear, 
When come again those pleasant hours 

In w^iispering glade, in darkening shade, 
'Mid waving fields and blossoming flowers ! 

With daintiest care, in colors rare, 
Proud Nature may her rol)e adorn ; 

Be thou but there, to me more fair 
Art thou than countless gems of morn. 

And when at eve soft zephyrs breathe. 
And golden flames die in the west, — 

E'en that calm hour hath not the power 
That lives within thy gentle breast. 




1 6 POEMS. 



A^^TONY'S LAMENT OVER C^SAR. 

[JuUiLS C(esar.J 

if H' appalling deed is done ! 

A mighty form forever prostrate 

lies, 
And quenched fore'er the light- 
nings in those eves ; 

The tp'ant's arm has 
won ; 

And Ca?sar from an hundred wounds doth bleed, 
An hundred tongueless mouths in anguish plead. 

There bows his only friend ! 
Within his arms he folds that matchless head, 
And on its brow his burning tears are shed ; 

While yet attend 
The mad, tumultuous throng, and curses ring 
Above the clay they almost hailed a king. 

And thou, laid low ! 
To other conquests, then, thy spirit hastes. 
And leaves to me this crimson flood that wastes. 

Thou wiirst it so ! 
And yet, not so ; thy spu'it fled, to soar 
To fresher conquests on that unknown shore. 



ANTONY'S LAMENT OVER CJSSAR. 17 

O ru til] ess fate ! 
Immortal Cfesar ! whilst thy princely blood 
Thus pours along, beside that unknown flood 

Thy soul doth wait 
To see thine Antony his love-vows keep), 
And all thy foes to foul destruction sweep. 

Then, spirit, rest .' 
Thy dear loved friend to thee is not untrue, 
And unborn millions yet shall call one true — 

Him, Antony ; and best 
Of all that noble band once in thy train, 
Who held their loves as thine — poor loves, how 



For Cfesar's love, 
Ye howling wolves, behold this piteous sight ! 
This lyre unstrung — this sun robbed of its light. 

Nor high above. 
His mighty arm, Olympian Jove's proud lance 
At Conquest's voice shall ever more advance. 

There low he lies ! 
Ye worse than slaves, or hideous creeping thing. 
Look on his weeping wounds. So, tears will spring 

To your stern eyes ! 
Oh, let them forth — nor longer stay them there ! 
Such precious drops should temper my despair. 
2 



iS POEMS. 

And I may speak ? 
Then let great Caesar's virtues be my theme ; 
That endless chain of deeds, that, like a dream 

Of winter's night, Mould seek 
To paint its vi^-id piotures on the brain, 
And then in en-sy paint them o'er again. 

Was he not great 
While yet in untried youth, by stern decree. 
Dread Soylla wills: ''Cornelia's love for me." ? 

He spurns his high estate ; 
And for her love the tyrant's land is tlown, 
And chastely Caesar waits for her alone. 

See with what store 
From all the great and wise he decks his mind, 
The fruit of which he showers on his kind ; 

How he implores 
Of Eome's propitious gods that hour to greet 
That sees the world sit smiling at her feet. 

Undaunted, calm, 
He sweeps unconquered ever ; at his name 
Exhaustless spoil and lands grace proud Kome's 
fame. 

Hers is the palm : 
The East, Spain, Gaul, and Britain, each the prize 
To this resplendent bolt Tarpeius Hies. 



ANTONY'S LAMENT OVER CAESAR. 



19 



For Rome and you, 
Once liappy Eomans ! Can your list'ning ears 
Be dulled so soon? Flow on, ye pitying tears, 

And prove, if true, 
The love ye bore ; and, sorrowing torrents, meet 
To wasli these stains from wondering Pompey's 
feet! 

Could hut a glow 
This brazen statue's eyes now animate. 
Think ye that the}' would triumph o'er the state 

Of their great foe ? 
The noble Pompey's eyes would scorn the deed, 
And his great heart for this poor hart would 
bleed. 

Look on his brow 
Where, at 3'our bidding, I the laurel placed ; 
See how his soul its beauties there has traced ! 

Where roams it now ? 
Soft ! let me in his crimson raiment fold 
The godlike face we may no more behold. 

Here let them rest. 
The mighty arms a thousand tribes that smote, 
The skilful hands, his deathless records wrote, — 

Stilled with his breast ! 
The impious thieves have dared to force and rob. — 
The noble Ciesar's soul hath ceased to throb. 



Aye, uow ye weep ! 
Tumultuous passions wrap your souls in fire 1 
Let Furies will these traitors in their ire 

Tantalus' sleepless sleep ! 
While all true Eomans shudder as they tell 
How liberty, by Brutus' dagger, fell ! 



<--^<5>l3H5^S2KJ>^ ■ 



ALONE. 




'VE wandered by the whispering sea 

^v^p^ Its joyous echoes spoke to me- 

They were not wild waves idly 
breaking. 
And yet, 

1 Tho' oft I've heard them call before, 

The voice was not the voice of yore. 

I've stood u]3on the golden crest. 

And watched the twilight's gathering shade 
The summer sun sank to his rest, 

Where all his gUmmering glories fade. 



THE LOST TREASURE. 

'Tis strange — 
Tho' oft I've seen his rays before, 
The light was not the light of yore. 

Dear Heart ! 'tis since thou art not by. 

The sea's glad echoing voice was thine ; 
The glories of that western sky, 

Thy bright eyes winged back to mine. 
Ah, yes ! 
It is thy presence near me there 
That makes the summer scenes so fair. 



o-#4>C?_?^S^>Gx§^ 






THE LOST TEEASURE. 

ITHIN a hall of royal state, 

Witli richest canopies o'erspread- 

v^P Wliere sculptured shapes in ambush 
V^^^fe-^ wait, 

i flickering lamp its beams is 
shedding ; 
But scarce its quivering ray reveals 
The form that thro' the stillness steals. 



T. 



22 POEHS. 

The sovereigu of a tliousaud lords, — 

A monarch, whose soft breathed command 
Would gather to his gUtteriug boards 
The brave and loveliest of the liiaid, — 
BoAvs there in contemplative mood, 
Akin to the deep solitude. 

Hour upon hour has slowly pressed, 
When from his posture of despair 
He rises now, and from his breast 

He frees the hands long clasped there ; 
And from his brow he lifts the band, 
And tears the signet from his hand. 

Then thro' the court the signal speeds, 

Calling wise counsellors to attend, 
To reap the fruit that wisdom breeds, 
That age and ripe experience lend. 
Now to the summons' echoing sound 
The fathers quickly gather round. 

"Wait we, great master, thy command," 

Sulpicianus 'twas that spake, 
' ' Name but thy wish by sea or laud, 
"Soever course our ensigns take — 
Be it cold Caledonia's heath. 
Or realms of burnins: sands beneath ; 



THE LOST TREASURE. 23 

"From fair Campania's vine-clad plain ; 

Along the broad Flaminian Way, 
Where Avidespread Orient's soft domain 
Welcomes thine undisputed sway. 
Hast not the thing thou wouldst possess, 
Breathe but its name — the wish express." 

The monarch hears with mien benign, 

Views long the vassals at his feet, 
Leaves his high state with gracious sign, 
And kindly words their fealty greet. 
" O fathers ! not what I would taste. 
But mine I fain would have replaced. 

"For as the sun old Tiber sank beneath, 

A prize had flown, dearer than captive train 
Or sparkling jewel princes may bequeath : 
A day has passed, and I have lived in vain — 
No trophy from the field of knowledge won. 
No thought engrossed, no virtuous action done." 



^f^y^^P-^-'y^ 



POEMS. 



WOULD DAY WEEE COME ! 

i^ OULD day were come I all, me I I can- 
not bear 

'^^-jwi^ To welcome now the silvery moon- 
'w)<v^(p light beams, 

l>0'^; Or listen to the strains that fill the air, — 
Like some unfeeling mirth to me it 
seems. 



And ye, bright stars, hide your reproachful light 
That fain would win me from my darling's 
glance. 

Do ye not know her eyes are dimmed to-night — 
Her laughing eyes, that oft my heart entranced ? 

Ye fragrant winds, so gently stealing by, 

I think ye know my darling's voice is stilled ; 

That her sweet song has vanished in a sigh — 
Her ringing voice that oft my bosom thi-illed. 

Until her eyes shall light again with glee. 
And silvery sweet the music of her voice 

In wavering notes comes o'er the air to me, 
No charm have ye that can my heart rejoice. 



DEVS ME US! DEUS ME US' 25 

Would day were come to speed night's shades 
away ! 
What cheer bring ye, ah, me, ye wearying 
hours ? 
She loved the day, the bright and glorious day, 
Its sunny warmth, its singing birds and flowers. 



— <§K^><25!#«'Oo{l->#- 



DEUS MEUS ! DEUS MEUS ! 

(Inscription on a memorial church bell.) 

I BEING, swelling, 

Falls there not upon thine ear, 

Whisjjering, telling, 
In an accent deep and clear ; 
M And ever thus — 

Deus Mens ! Deus Mens ! 

Sweetly ringing 
In dewy glades, at early morn ; 

Its i^assiou bringing 
Into my thought, and lightly borne ; 

And ever thus — 
Deus Mens ! Deus Mens ! 




26 



Booming, eLiiiging 
O'er hastening crowds —in maddening strife ; 

Lowering, hanging, 
A pendant blade, that parts some life ; 

And ever thus — 
Dens Mens ! Dens Mens ! 

AVavoring, stealing 
Whore pleasure reigns, where beautv glances : 

Softly appealing 
To some breast that love entrances ; 

And ever thus — 
Deus Mens ! Deus Mens ! 

Chistering, thronging 
To Meditation's thoughtt'al hour ; 

Waiting, longing 
For some behest beyond her power ; 

And ever thus — ■ 
Dtnis Mens ! Deus Mens ! 

Wliispering, sighing 
Some cadence while the spirit sleeps ; 

Sinking, dying. 
As Care, forgotten, -waits and weeps ; 

And ever thus — 
DtMis Mens ! Deus Mens ! 



THE REVELLERS. 



THE EEVELLEES. 



27 




HEN this old world was young 
(A weary, weary while away) 
'Tis said, mid vales and woods among 

The bright- eyed fairy folk did play; — 
That from their tiny, secret bowers. 
When shone the earliest moonlight 
beam. 

They came to dance away the hours, 
And pleasure reigned supreme. 

'Tis said such pastimes ne'er were seen. 

For, as they formed and madly danced. 
From every flower on mead and green 

On which the silvery moonlight glanced, 
Some kinsman of each little sprite 

Would break the portals of his cell, 
And join the revels of delight, — 

So 'witching was the spell. 

Thus passed the hours of dear delight 
Till softest Zephyr's whispering sigh 

Bade each sweet fairy say good night, — 
For blushes tinge the sky ; 

Then round their queen, clasped hand to hand, 
They still the music of their bells 



28 



And fade, when sinks lier dew}' wand, 
To their own woods and dells. 

But these revellers far have fled 

(The world's so very wise and cold) 
And tlio' the same soft beams are shed 

No flowery portal will unfold. 
Perhaps from yon bright distant star, 

Or from some secret, deej)est glade, 
The night winds bear the tale afar 

Of fairy revellings j^layed. 



TO A FEIEND. 

I^EIENDSHIP, thou phantom or a 
dream ! 
^ Sweet fancy of an idle hour ! 
How welcome thy professions seem, 
And fragrant as the tenderest 
flower ! 

Friendship, thou bubble rich in hue, 
That on the summer air is borne ! 

Is thy bright substance ever true ? 

Wouldst glow of thy pretences shorn ? 




TO A FRIEND. 29 

Friendship, thou calm, iinmttied lake ! 

'Twould seem that thou must ever sleep : 
Yet, should the gentlest zei^hyr wake, 

Wouklst thou that fleeting promise keep ? 

With such poor, undeserving arts 

Do transient friendship's shows beguile ; 

A glow the summer day imparts. 
But shuns the adverse wintry trial. 

Then how complacently I view 

Thy friendship, firm, unshaken, sure, — 

Since passing years have told how true 
And changeless it can be — and pure. 

Should calm contentments guide my thought. 
And symbols in my features trace, 

I ever found, when there I sought, 
A quick reflection in thy face. 

And when, with cares and doubts beset, 

I free my proud, imperious will. 
Thou dost not spurn me then, but yet 

Thou shed'st a tear — and lov'st me still. 



- -^^0<2?!!^-OoQ>^ 



POEMS. 



MY AKGOSIES. 



i- hf1(?b?w!r-- Y beautiful fleet lias sailed away, — 

I watched tbern, standing on the 



im^^^'v' sand,- 

M^^^ My white-winged fleet will come home 
1^ some day, 

Bringing me treasures from every 
' land ; 

For I've made them promise — the winds and the 

gales — 
That they'll lovingly Avatch o'er my fleet that sails. 

Over the tumbling and stormy deep, 

My well-manned fleet will laugh to scorn 

(Well-manned, if wishes can vigils keep) 
The warning wrecks that, beaten and torn, 

Drift ever and ever, but warning in vain. 

My fleet shall come sailing home over the main. 

My sturdiest sliip hath ribs of oak 
And deep fall lines, to buffet the shore. 

Wliat cares she for the whirlwind's stroke ? 
Smiling she'll welcome old ocean's roar. 

Sometimes, I fear me, she floats too dee-p 

To bring me the treasures I fain would reap. 



MY ARGOSIES. 



31 



I sometimes fear for my fairest bark, 

That I've fashioned the happiest sea to sail ; 

To gain it the ocean's so wide and dark, 

Her sails are of silk and her masts are so frail. — 

My heart seems to tell me, from yon golden shore, 

My bark will ne'er come to add wealth to my store. 

In my fleet are many of gTacefnl form, — 

I am sure they will swiftly skim the seas,— 
But then will they watch for the pitiless storm ? 
Ah, me ! they are trimmed for the balmiest 
breeze ; 
I fear that my fair-weather sailors will sleep : — 
Then my sailors and treasures ne'er will come from 
the deep. 

Some day thro' the golden, summer sea 

(Till then, how oft shall I seek this shore ?) 
My white-winged fleet will be wafted to me, 

With its priceless treasures. I'll tell them o'er : 
Then should fortune, sweet love, idle joys, soothe 

my breast, 
In some calm, peaceful port may my Argosies 
rest. 



FOEMS. 



THE WAGEE. 

[Their debts of honor were discliaro-ed with the utmost 
fidelity. The desperate gamester, who had staked his 
person and libert}- in the hist throw of the dice, sub- 
mitted to the decision of fortune, and suffered himself to 
be bound and sold into remote slavery by his weaker 
but more successful antag-onist.] 



^k^UEYIAX, bring the shameful chain 
^ ^ For my hands — my heart has lied ! 
Bind this too strong arm again — 

Its pulseless current is not dead : 
The flame my bold sire's deeds in- 
trenched, 
Within this bosom brightly burns, 
Would my dark destiny had quenched 
The fate my spirit spurns ! 

Comrade ! I thought to win thy gold ; 

But, comrade, all I have is thine ; 
And more beside, a thousand fold — 

For gold I waged myself divine. 
For idle hours I sought it not, — 

The mountain doth reward my toil, — 
I thought to bless a fair one's lot, 

And deck her with thy spoil. 




THE WAGER. 

Northman ! take this eaglet's phime. 

Thou shalt lead my chosen band, 
Exalted chief. Helvetia's doom — 

To languish in a stranger's land. 
Yet from thee one last boon I crave, — 

Then easier shall my bondage seem, — 
In tjie fierce onset let it wave — 

There let its pinions stream ! 

Warrior ! when from our forest north, 

At signal from that fluttering crest. 
Her fair, unnumbered sons steal forth 

O'er Danube's spotless, frozen breast, — 
I'll listen to her muttering sound, 

While dazzling sunbeams glance ; 
Then a proud freeman's soul shall bound :- 

I'll claim my plume and lance ! 



33 



--^O2s^^l>o{>^-^ 



34 POEMS. 



THE FOETUNATE ISLES OF THE 
BLESSED. 

'^"^|2^AY, where are the far and the famed 

^[^ blessed isles, 

P^^ Where the voice of the murmuring water 




beguiles, 
And the voyager's ever at rest ; 
Where music's the song of the guardian 
seas, 

Gently borne on the tale-bearing wings of the 
breeze — 

! wli.'re are the Isles of the Blessed ? 

Just beyond, where uplifted the great pillars 

tower. 
Ever loiters Atlanticus' vigilant power, 
Lurking low in remorseless quest ; 
If I knew not his name, and how fatal his wiles, 
Enticed b}^ his azurine hue and his smiles, 

1 should seek for the Isles of the Blessed, 

Perchance, 'neatli yon dreaded and frown-bearing 

height, 
Undaunted, some bark takes her perilous flight, 

By the winds and the waters caressed. 
O ! happy, that intrepid, unbaffled prow ! 



THE FORTUNATE ISLES OF THE BLESSED. 35 

O ! liappy, that bokl, way-worn mariner now 
Swiftly nearing the Isles of the Blessed ! 

Entrancing the scenes that his quick senses fill, 
As unchecked, unrestrained, deep in vale, over 
hill, 
His swift, flying footsteps are pressed. 
Could a scene ever faii-er than this prospect rise : 
The sounds, the dark verdure, the fragrant swept 
skies. 
Of these fam'd blessed Isles of the Blessed ? 

Shall Conflict's dire din, be it never so rude. 
These lone, peaceful latitudes dare to intrude. 

To jar on his now fancied rest ? 
Shall cold Envy chill tlie friend once held so near, 
Or grim Slander's pale apparition appear 

In these far away Isles of the Blessed ? 

O ! haste, blessed Islander ! surely wing back 
Some token to guide thro' thine own furrowed 
track. 

Be it ever the East or the West ; 
That I, undismayed, truly searching my chart, 
May find, O sweet bliss ! in its happiest part. 

The fortunate Isles of the Blessed ! 



36 




POEMS. 



MOTHERLESS. 

° NE eve, in fancy's idle mood, 
J: My listless way alone pursued, 
f^ A cry came, low and clear. 

It was, methought, the saddest sound 
That ever yet its way had found 
To an unwilling ear. 

Ere that, and often, I had read 
Of cruel wars, and havoc spread. 

And varied tales of woe ; 
But turmoils, flaming fields, and slain, 
Brought to my bosom no such pain, 

Nor dimmed my vision so. 

Transfixed, I listened, if again 

That note should flutter — but in vain, 

I only heard my heart : 
I looked, and lo ! a stately pile 
To cheer dark, oriDlianed childhood's trial 

Essays the parent's part. 

And yet, secure within that fold. 
Unreconciled, and uncontrolled, 

Thus plead affection's wants : 



DEATH OF JULIAN CIILORUS. 37 

E'en there, Avitli every need supplied, 
Some vision, absent from its side, 
Tlie tender memory haunts. 

I turned, and softly breathed a prayer — 
That none endeared to me should share 

Those hospitable walls ; 
That no tear-stained, artless cheek 
Should there its orphaned pillow seek, 

As deeply darkness palls. 



— ^-K><23^^=2>'G>^ — 



DEATH OF JULIAN CHLORUS. 
IfSllL OMRi^DES, bend low, the certain hour 



m 



\f draws near : 

,i^|pr2c;.=t^ But, hasten to soever fate befalls, 
^ \^ Death's summons unconcernedly I hear — 
^i^ A willing subject the destroyer calls. 

(\ And, since humanity cannot delay 

' The still, resistless voice that bids him 

shape, 
And since i^roud monarch cannot disobey 

The hand that points the way he would escape, — 



38 POEMS. 

Man's common lot is his — lie surely dies 

And leaves behind a pale, unsightly frame 
At length to moulder, whilst the spirit hies 

To airy scenes remote — a living flame. 
Then, should I, knowing, rather not rejoice 

With cheerfulness, content, and ready will, 
And give my speedy answer to the voice 

Most trustingly, and bid again be still 
The tongue that fain would tempt an unsought 
stay ? 

Let mine be wisdom's part, purer and better — • 
A cheerful acquiescence spurns delay. 

And well befits the honest, ready debtor. 
So, this unstable body frees its soul — 

Onward it speeds, and ever joyously 
With other thronging myriads, to the goal ; 

And, once admitted there, forever free 
From lingering, irksome doubts. How poor and 
vain 

The fragile casement we inhabit here 
To that celestial, gleaming form we gain : 

How gross its once prized attributes appear 1 
Should brooding, deep regrets for this estate 

The weary evening hour of age employ ? 
Nay, rather is it pleased to separate 

From ceaseless labor for the realms of joy. 
The dearest, fondest transports that await 



DEATH OF JULIAN CIILORUS. t^(^ 

The soul of purest, proved piety, 
Are unapproaclied, save tlirough the single gate 

That shuts without the world's anxiety. 
Be not this Avelcome, coming stroke bewept, 

Since honors, even to satiety. 
The gracious gods have brought me to accept 

With fair renown. Ambition's cup is filled 
With unthought richness. History's page, 

Unsullied, bears no blood-stained trace 
Of cruel deeds, no tyrant's withering rage 

Taints o'er my name to live, and I displaced. — 
So, since my journey endetli free from guile. 

Welcome the word ! Contented with my loss, 
Undaunted, death I view, and with a smile. 

Untarnished and yet free from dark remorse, 
Conscious I am how purely hath been kept 

The trust committed by the divine power ; 
How, waking, 'twas my thought; and, when I slept, 

It was the vision of the deep, night hour ; 
And undissembling, often have I wept. 

Lest undefiled I should not yield my dower. 
Then, how serenely may I not reflect 

Upon the crown that Avaits beyond the tide ! 
And what fair portion may I not expect. 

When in its peaceful ways my steps abide ! — 
Ever detesting, in this restless sphere. 

The despot's maxims, whose fair words may hide 



40 



POEMS. 



Oppression's horrid hand, that qniok nprears 

To crush so'er unjust suspicion spied. 
And knows no spot uucurst hr idle fears. 

And falls a ^-ictim to his own vain pride, 
Mt every act to prudence gjive quick eai-. 

Or from experience craved a guiding word ; 
Justice, niT jewel, knew nor threat nor t^ar ; 

Honor but due, the chaplet saw conferred. 
How have I labored in the cause of peace. 

If, haply. Peace brought in her smiling train 
The people's weal, and Nature's glad increase ; 

That chief reward, — since Ceres sought in vain 
All art aids not, and wanton luxuries cease. 

But, did the rude barbarian lift to smite, 
A long farewell to her endearing charms. 

Till he his dark recesses sought in tiight. 
There to bewail the soldier's ponderous arms. 

Invincible and boundless in their might 
E'en tho' the Fates had whispered their alarms. 

And I had IciU'ned by divination's art 
That I must fall from battle's hurtful harms, 

And with immortal heroes claim my part. 
O this hath been my soul's oft told desire ! 

For now no traitor's steel -w-ithin this heart 
Bids it be still, — no lingering ills aspire 

By slow, insidious measures, dealt imseen, 
This tenement to bathe in quenchless tire. 



ASLEEP 



41 



And blast to storilo bouj^hs the oak oiico i»ro(ni ; 
But, like a fortivsscHl and sustained towev, 

That hatli -withstood beU\i|;uerinj;-, warlike foes, 
Iveel to the dust before sonu^ honored power. 

And in my ruin bury all my woes. 



*-K>c>«ft^^>>Q>^ 



ASLEEP. 

■^S^Wi ^^^^^^'^ Avlierc Inuoeency slept, — 
'S||^/| j\- It was the deep and silent night, — 
^bf ,,vc>|- I lingered, as the moments swept. 
Sweet wateh I with the angel kept. 
Fair j^ieture ! Page of pure de- 
light ! 

We smiled, because our darling smiled. 

Some joyous pastime of the day, 
By which her rosy hours are whiled, 
E'en cross that stream her heart b(\guiled. 

O'er memory h(>ld its tender sway. 

We sighed, be(MUse our darling sighed. 
Some childhood's care within her breast, 



42 



POEMS. 



Unbidden, dared to float tlie tide 
And bear its shadow to her side, 
To mar that calm and i^erfect rest. 

And, nightl}', at that sacred place 

My heart's o'erflowing raptures pour : 
No burning lines that poets trace 
For me have charms, when that fair face 
Portrays its sweet and varviuo- lore. 



HOLLYWOOD. 

(Hollywood Conietery, EicLmond, Virginia, where lie buried 
five thousand Confederate dead.) 

jgiira^raLAIR Hollywood, within thy peaceful 
":£li(Ml^ shade 

A stranger comes, and muses o'er the 
scene ; 
Thou heed'st not tho' a wanderer's feet 
have strayed. 
Lured by thy robe of autumn's variant 
sheen. 




Fair Hollywood, of those who lowly sleep, 

There is not one who softly called him friend ; 



HOLLYWOOD. 



43 



The accents of liis name, no tongue may keep, 
Of all wlio to their rest thy paths shall wend. 

Fair HoUj'wood, the countless, unmarked mounds 
That, undulatiug, cloy thy widening vale, 

Impeu forever in their chilling bounds 

The wearied part that steps not o'er Death's 
pale. 

Fair Hollywood, dread memories of that past, 
That gave these treasures to thy cold embrace, 

No dark aspersions on their fate shall cast. 

Nor bring an untoward presence near thy place. 

Fair Hollywood, thy crimson, deeply hued, 
Tells of no strife diffusing o'er the plain ; 

Thy wa\'ing arms speak of no steel imbued. 
Contending passions sleep in thy domain. 

Fair Hollywood, the stranger's eyes now turn 
To low, sequestered spots where rest the dead. 

In massive tomb with ostentatious urn 

And glowing transcripts of their tenants spread. 

Fair Hollywood, when in his distant home 
Pure recollections of thy features rise, 

'Tis not of these he'll write in memory's tome, 
Not of thy grandeur, nor the great and wise. 



44 



POEMS. 



No ; 'tis that Tine-decked pile the sky aspires — 
A fostered trophy memory bears from thee ; 

Mid those who sank beneath the withering fires, 
Memoria hi cetenia shall it be. 



<-#OK2^p=vK>t§^- 



THE SACEILEGE OF ALAEIC. 

COULD Melpomene my tongue iuspii'e ! 

O for Apollo's all responsive lyre ! 
(^"rA^-^ Then shonld my soul no slothful utter- 
'^1^'. anee brook, 

And deathless write my words in Clio's 
book ; 

Then should I dare to cHmb the sacred 
mount 
And drink with her the sweet Castalian fount. 
Gifted by these, from Hellas' every vale, 
A voice should spring to cry afar the tale 
Of her dread death ; from the Saronic bay, 
Where young Hyperion greets the earliest day, 
To the far point that tells the Acarnian plain 
Where sinks his steed to spring refreshed again ; 




THE SACRILEGE OF ALARIC. 



45 



From snow-croTvned Ossa, where the gods abide — 
Fair realm of Tempe, Penens flood beside — 
Borne on the soft, Argolian zephyr's wings, 
E'en to the foam whence dark Cythera springs, 
Should rise the dirge, and, in its plaintive moan 
Tell of this land — its glories — glories flown. 

Could the heroic Theseus in his dreams, 
Have known that ever Phoebus' darting beams 
Should show this sight ; his oft stained sword — that 

foiled 
The Marathonian herd, whose rage despoiled 
Athena's state^ — had never idly slept. 
But on Parnassus' brow its vigils kept. 

Had divine Pallas, — she whose skilful hand 
Brought peace and beauty to her mighty land, 
"When forth from Zeus' brow, with war-like mien. 
All armed she sprang, — had Pallas then but seen 
The thread that Clotho's ever-turning reel 
Spun for her love, her hand had stayed the wheel. 
No spirit wandering those fair fields along 
Shall by its will or wishes fly the throng, 
Nor bend to Lethe's torrent, and lift up 
The mystic draught that sleeps within the cup : 
For what purged soul would crave a sight like 
this, 



46 POEMS. 

Or here, renewed, foro-et Elvsiiim's bliss ? 



Beliolcl ALirio, scourge and dread of kings, 
With high disdain turns from the war-worn wastes. 

Upon th' impatient steed in armor springs, 
And leads the way his ruthless hand has traced. 

See at his back the wild Borvsthe'ian horde, 
Strong in their pride and eager for the frar, 

Forth from each fastness, as a deluge poured. 
O'er all the peopled vales that stretch away — 

From high Olympus, capped with glistering 
snows. 
From Achaian mart-^ and Elis' sacred plains. 

Beyond where Corinth's sparkling water flows 
And o'er its bosom waft Arcadian strains. 

On come the hosts ! no power to impede : 
Their eagar steps approach the MaUan bay, 

Like foul Chim?era in hot rage and speed, 
While Bellerophon sleeps, no hand to stay 

The march victorious : mount the glorious rock 
Where the brave hundreds, every breast a tower, 

Kept well the pass, nor yielded to the shock 
Of Persian cohort till death quelled their power. 

O sprang no virtue from so bold a sire 
To kindle spark of ardor in the son ? 

Alas I there glows within no valorous fire ! 



THE SACRILEGE OF ALARIC. 47 

Tlie god-like race had died ere but begun ; 

And in their craven breasts the patriot flame 
Is of a pale and feeble, unreal hue : — 

Sparta lives not, and honor's but a name. 

Now doth the deluge stifle in its rage 

The world's great light ; the surging waves o'er 
sweep 
The best wrought deed of mind, of warrior, sage : 

With cruel joy the barbarous gleaners reap. 
Athenia, from her god-abiding rock. 

Lifts up her tearful eyes, and lifts to see 
Her sister, fair Corinthus, meet the shock. 

But looks in vain — the spoilers hear no j^lea. — 
Go, tell, ^olus, in thy winged flight. 
How Hellas' day has changed to endless night ! 



-- ^g>O^S^^2>o{>^-^ — • 



48 



POEMS. 



THE PLEDGE. 



j^.^ OOD friend, and wilt tlion say, 

"When this, my presence, here shall 
V)\\^^^ coldly lie, 

f(^^\ That in this still, lone way 

Thy feet, by fondest intuition, oft shall 

hie ; 
E'en tho' I be not here — and know well 
why •? 

Nay, stay that glistening tear ! 
'Twas but my thought of what — ah ! what may be ; 

'Twas breathed, for thou art near ; 
My thought led awe afar, then back to thee 
Unfettered came — save with my heai't's one plea. 

See this unprospered Hower ! 
The daAvn's glad salutation saw it blithe and fair. 

'Tis eve's young hour ; 
Some churlish haud hath left its impress there. 
Mayhap, so unforeseen, my own sad share. 

Say such be Death's acquest. 
If, for my bosom, I thy vow achieve. 

And for thine — my behest ; 
If thou wilt of me fondest thoughts unreave, 
His mandate come — I'll hence — nor idly grieve. 



ALONG THE STREAM. .q 

And, when I pass away, 
Thou'lt seek my semblance in some Mend of 
tliine ; 

And, with liim here thou'lt stray ; 
Teaching, with sweetest intonation, that was mine, 
That he may, when thou sleep'st, our names 
intwiue. 



-^tH]-<2=5^2>oG>^-J — 



ALONG THE STREAM. 

HIS is the bubbling, laughing brook. — 
Recall that wanton, summer day 
^^ When we harassing care forsook, 

And woo'd its lone, meandering way. 
How like some blended, fading dream, 
The day we fared along the stream ! 

And here the gaily, mottled bank ! 

Some fate each nodding daisy said 
When thou, fair priestess Vesta, sank 
And I assumed assent or pled. 
How real, yet how perverse, now seem 
Our fancies told along the stream ! 

4 




50 POEMS. 

'Twas here we vrove the roval crown. 

O'er stuJilod from our iiorfumed store ; 
And, for bright jewels, sought adown 
Where on its breast our brooklet bore 
Great gems : Did Indus of the Treasure deem 
Her reahn outshone along that stream ? 

Here, we the harmless ford essayed ! 
But then how harmful it appeiired. 
How coyly did'st enjoin — delayed 

To tempt its hurrying course, and feared 
To ope thy tenderest eyes, whose gleam 
O'er-tided him who spann'd the stream ! 

Yes ! 'tis the gurgling, bubbling brook ! 

Soon, soon 'twill bo the placid river. 
Keep in thy heart our fair-day look. 
My happiest day — and thou the giver. 
How Hke a cherished, fadeless dream, — 
The dav wo fared along the stream ! 



- — ►^^^KEa^KliO^- 



MESSAGES. 5, 



MESSAGES. 




jj HAT is tlio soug the Oriole sings, 

As she wings — as she wings ? 
IS' My home to the loftiest bough shall 
hold — 
For my note is harsh and none will 
heed, — 
That afar may be seen my vestment of 
gold ; 
For who so gorgeous in wood or mead ? 
This is the message the Oriole brings, 
As away to her swinging home she wings. 

^Yhat is the song the Linnet sings, 
As she wings — as she wings ? 
My note's of the sweetest ; my heart is warm ; 
I can brook no fetter ; the hawthorn hedge 
Is my sunshine homo ; for the wintry storm 
I haste with my mates to the glad sea's edge 1 
This is the message the Linnet brings, 
As away to her perfumed home she wings. 

What is the song the Cuckoo sings. 
As she wings — as she wings ? 
I have found me a home in some borrowed nest ; 
I'll away and proclaim a warning call 



With a clamorous note from my swelliug breast— 
The bright-bowed torrent that soon must fall ! 
This is the message the Cuckoo brings, 
As away o'er the ripening harvest she ^Yings. 

What is the song the Mead-lark sings, 
As she \Yings — as she wings ? 
My home ^^•ith a joyous cry I gain : 

Of all I have chosen the meadow's brink ; 
And my tiedgelings sport down the shadowy lane, 
And the odorous spray of the wild thyme drink! 
This is the message the Mead-lark brings, 
As over the waving meadow she -uiugs. 

What is the song the Redstart sings, 
As she wings — as she wings ? 
I must tell you my secrets as hence I lly 
To practise my arts in the wood away ; 
The' few bear such manifold charms as I, 
No moments I find for their idle display ! 
This is the message the Eedstart brings. 
As away io the moss-gTown beech she wings. 

What is the song the Blackbird sings. 
As she wings — as she wings V 
In the lonely wood, in a plaintive tone 

Of deep, pure warblings, I breathe my tale 



MESSAGES. 53 

To my listening mate ; then lie carols alone, 
And ^vith answering echo gladdens the vale ! 
This is the message the Blackbird brings. 
As away to the darkening thicket she wings. 

What is the song the brown Thmsh sings, 
As she wings— as she wings ? 
At morn and at eve shall your heart be stirred, 

For who so hears it will love my song ; 
By day I must hide where the rivulet's heard. 
In my favorite haunt, as it pours along ! 
This is the message the brown Thrush brings, 
As away to her shaded hollow she wings. 

What is the song the Red-breast sings. 
As she wings— as she wings '? 
Who follows the path of the blast so soon, 
Or lingers so long on the crimson crest ? 
My strain can the haughtiest passion attune 
To the peaceful lay of my loving breast ! 
This is the message the Red-breast brings, 
As away to her mapled bower she wings. 

What is the song the Mock-bird sings, 
As she wings— as she wings ? 
I have stolen a strain from each carolling throat,— 
Since few will list to my tuneless voice,— 



54 



l\-iEMS. 



And I mingle a sigh -^ith the lover's note. 

Or I nii^ke from the resonant forest mv choice ! 
This is the message the Mock-bird brings. 
As away on her studious llight she wings. 

What is tlie song my Spirit sings. 
As it wings — as it \\-ings ? 
I vnM seek some spot by a wood-land slope. 

Till the shining sun to his rest sliall wend, 
And then I will tell a sweet thought and hope 
To the hearkening ear of each plumed friend ! 
This is the mess:ige my Spirit brings. — 
And its timorous llight to the futui-e wings. 



^^5^-cCi 



THE FOG-BELL. 



55 




THE FOG-BELL. 

'HE fog-boll ! The fog-bell ! 
^ List, as its rliYtlimio measures swell ! 

^I^^^Tlie bell liaugs by the castle moat 

^ That all who, waudering, as they near, 

May catch its accents as they tloat, — 
Soothing with hope each anxious 
fear, — 
That all may heed it well. 

The fog-bell ! The fog-bell ! 
I've wondered whence its subtle spell : 
Eor oft, as lengthening shadows lay, 

I've mused (whore it securely swung. 
Nor sped its warning tones away) 

Upon its mute, and senseless tongue, — 
Nor need to heed it well. 



The fog-beU ! The fog-bell ! 
The weary captive in his cell 
Hears it ; and knows the world without 

Is shrouded in relentless mist, — 
Immersed with his sail soul in doubt, — 
And he, unseen, its thought dismissed. 
Poor captive, heed it well ! 



56 roEiis. 

The fog-bell ! The fog-bell ! 
The busy house- wife's thought will dwell 
While yet she holds her irksome round ; 

And, as its quavers loiter there 
She rests apart, and to its sound 

She joins her homely, unfeigned prayer. 
Good house-wife, heed it well ! 

The fog-bell ! The fog-bell ! 
How oft the storm-tossed sailor's knell I 
Long, rude days past the hand, so skilled. 

Has guided on, from farthest cHmes : 
Fond visions that his bosom thrilled 
Fade with its dreaded, funeral cliimes. 
Brave sailor, heed it well ! 

The fog-bell ! The fog-bell ! 
May it another message tell ? 
An iiUer sought the shore's lone waste 

With no concern, save careless thought : 
He turned him thence, his heart o'ertraced 
With precepts that the fog-bell taught. — 
Kind idler, heed them well ! 



>^-— - 



THE DEATH OF THE ORIOLE. 57 



THE DEATH OF THE ORIOLE. 

mourned him by the oak-land way, 




Q His musie-breathing bosom — cold. 



f At wandering time thro' field and wold, 



WV;V^ Where in his loveliness he lay 



What need ? why should the hunter's 
shaft 

Make such the ^-ictim of its blight ? 
Who dreamed a zephyr's breath could waft 
So dread a missile in its flight ? 

Poor, injured birdling, we deplore 
Thy timeless fate ! Thy part in life 
Was through cerulean realms to soar. 
Apart from this unheedful strife. 

What lowly object here of harm 
With si^ecious pleadings won thine eye ? 
To teach thee for thy every charm 
The world's return to thee — to die. 

Wouldst not, if mightst, poor wanderer, say 
Of those whose refuge was thy breast ? 
Bereft, in some deep vale — away, 
Some vale of Tempe — pure and blest. 



58 POEMS. 

Aud, how may lie, whose hurtful hand 
Could spoil them of their birthright dower. 
Presume, when he too nears the strand, 
To ask the tokens of His power 

For those whose accents are his joy, 
With smiles responsive to his own V 
And, for their sure defence, employ 
The parting suppliant's anxious tone V 



THEODORA. 

^'K^fl "^^ ^^^ proclaims the race. 
I [\^| -"^ potent monarch's heart again rebounds; 
^yfe^^Ten thousand echoing voices swell the 
/^4pS sounds ; 

''(^ And joy illumes each face. 

I On all-impatient steeds, in bright array, 

Bj'zantium's maids encounter for the 
fray. 

He sees them waiting stand 
For that soft sound that bids them swiftly Hy ; 



THEODORA. 



59 



He marks but one sweet face with drooping eye, — 

She curbs with trembling hand. 
It seems amiss that her young, gentle life 
Should find its place in this deep, maddening 
strife. 

Now, to their task they spring, 
And onward, o'er the course a whirlwind rushing, 
While thunders roll around, Hope Fear is hush- 
ing ; 

For as the echoes ring 
To joyful shouts, he heeds but that brave crest 
That tells a timid maid leads all the rest. 

On to the goal they speed ! 
"With mighty stride each supple steed is leaping. 
With mighty throbs one heart in time is keeping. 

Will victory end the deed ? 
Appalling sight ! she sinks, nor hears the storm ; — 
Down in the dust there lies a pale, fair form ! 

Whence came that ardent plea ? 
From him who sits the throne, imperial, proud ; 
From him o'er yon bewondered Cypriot bowed ; 

From heart of royalty. 
He Kfts her from the dust, ignoble, lone. — 
She shares the state majestic — shai*es the throne ! 



6o POEMS. 




CAPE OF STOEMS. 



EST thee, thou rambler o'er life's sea ! 
Some counsel with thee I would seek : 
For surely thou mayst whisper me 
Of that fiu- region, dark and bleak, 
Of circling pools and shattered forms — 
Yet all-seductive Cape of Storms. 



Aye, once I viewed that hostile peak, 
That promontory's deep scarred side; 
I caught its dismal whirlwind's shriek 
And heard its caverns wail, deride ; 
And favored is the bark that 'scapes 
That fatal, stormiest of the capes ! 

But say its raging mood were stilled ; 
That ocean calmer aspects lent ; 
That kind, propelling breezes filled 
The wings by many a tempest bent ; 
If then his course he deftly shape 
Might he not round that stormiest cape ? 

No hope ! Forbearance is the snare 
By which is stored its sateless rift ; 
Fallacious hopes soft breezes bear 
Enshrouded in their flatteriuQ- drift. 



THE GAPE OF STORMS. 6 1 

Soon its dissembling tones will teach 
The terrors of that storm-strewed beach. 

But, voyager, o'er those troubled tides 
Perchance some spirit claims its sway, 
And guilt in fairest presence hides 
That those unversed shall surely stray ; 
Perchance, too, some rash rover's boast 
Now wafts him towards that storm- marred 
coast ? 

E'en so. That fringed and ragged shore, 
Told by yon headland lifted up, 
Proclaims the fruit the vintage bore 
Tilled for the Spirit of the Cup. 
Beware, O fair and cherished forms. 
That all-seductive Cape of Storms ! 



— ^-K><2^P=J»G>^^ 




62 POEMS. 

THE RECLUSE. 

o|^^^^ OUR hearts be for the Recluse unop- 
pressed ! 

Of all poor mortals calls he himself 
blessed. 

On no splenetic humor builds his hope, 

But infinite as nature is its scope ; 

Within his breast installs a trustiest 
friend 
His eveiy act to censure or commend ; 
And, too, each secret motive quick reviews, 
Nor every slight indulgence misconstrues ; 
The worth and weight of action e'er computes, 
Restrains excesses and his harm disputes ; 
Upholds some cherished phantom to his gaze, 
And gives an unsought radiance to his ways, 
And lustre to each homely duty lends — 
Renewing ever while its glow expends. 
Felicity like this — unquestioned, pure, 
Devised by reason, fashioned to endure, 
The wisdom of his choice seems to attest ; 
And leaves no untiUed field for vain request. 

Attend the Recluse for his day's long round. 

At dawn forth from his couch with joyful bound, 

To welcome coming day. The god of sleep 



THE RECLUSE. 63 

Bids speed him hence his wasteful watch to keep 
O'er those enthralled by his alluring reign, 
Which, when confirmed, he ever \d\l maintain. 
Released from bondage, on he takes his flight, 
Speeding the fading glories of the night : 
Impatiently foretastes the lingering day — 
Chiding the motive for its long delay. 
A herald comes anon, in robes of state 
To speak the orb's approach — resplendent, great, 
Wlio spreads o'er earth a glittering, jeweled 

band, — 
The princely tokens of a royal hand, — 
Ere yet he hasten on with generous stealth 
To share with all his all-surpassing wealth. 
On hies the wanderer in the happiest dawn ; 
Assumes as his the teachings of the morn ; 
Some clear writ line perceives at eveiy look, 
Or takes some glad refrain from every brook. 
Mayhaj), his thought recalls some well conned text 
That at some time, long past, its course perplexed, 
But now has learned its excellence so well 
That tho' unsummoned — yet its tale will tell. 
Thus on, till each accustomed trophy won, 
He turns liim homewards. See his day begun ! 

Now to his favorite haunt for dear converse — 
The silent realm of theme prolix, and terse 



64 POEMS. 

Traced o'er the li\-ing page. Theu, may awake 
The long-stilled voice that there its bonds can 

break 
To fetch the buried ages from the tomb, 
To breathe their aiiy nothingness, and bloom 
With rising monarchs, or with toppling king. 
He \'iews the swaying nations — hears the ring 
Of myriad voices, or the deep despair 
Of him whose every prospect once was fair : 
The sanctimonious prelate and the saint 
With holy pretence their vile deeds bepaint, — 
Abjuring His commands who set them there, — 
To claim, vdth. sensual courts, dominion's share ; 
Or, their base passions on some land obtrude 
Till loathsome things proclaim its solitude : 
^Tiile their names shine with proud prefix adorned, 
And praises said to those whom Honor scorned. 
But these are forms far banished to the past — 
The darkening clouds the sunlit skies o'ercast ; 
The dull, mean clods the beauteous gem ■withhold, 
Which once removed its virtues more unfold. 
A mighty phalanx stand the good and pure, 
'^liose fair, ennobling tenets shall endure 
Till earth and heaven be aged : these shall he call 
To peaceful consultation. If befall 
A mood to sorrow, profit, or to please, 
He'll find some spirit with that mood agi-ees. 



THE RECLUSE. 

The d:i3^ has flown, and, 'tis liis chorishcd hour: 
He strays afar, beneath the sky-pierced bower, 
And feels how poor and lowly is his place 
When measured by the endless span of space ! 
From yon ethereal, vasty realm, afar, 
There comes a wearied ray. 'Tis from a star 
By sweet Urania named. It murmurs not 
Because, forsooth, it seemed an unkind lot 
To set so fair an orb so deep in gloom 
To, innocently, expiate some doom : 
And those who've met its lone, estranged ray, 
Aver none purer in yon jeweled way. 

Worldling ! ere thou adjudge the Recluse' fate> 
Take to thy heart that absent wanderer's state. 



65 



<3<]'<^*^^^K>^-^ ■ 



66 POEMS. 



ALCIBIADES' SOLILOQUY. 

[Alcibiades, at the request of his grateful country- 
men, leaves the scene of his successes in the East, and 
turns his trireme homewards. The night before the 
anticipated ai'rival at the port of Piraius, he reclines 
thoughtfully at the prow, gazing into the moonlit waters ; 
while his heart is alternately filled with joy at his pres- 
ent prosperity, and depressed with doubts, when he 
reflects that, perhaps the calamitous Sicilian expedition 
and its consequence, are too well remembered.] 



m/LiEEP, my suggestive soul ! nor longer 
l^f force 

Ijijjy^!^ The vexious labyrinth of years misspent ! 
Or, since tliou wilt unsummoned yet 
l^\^ discourse, 

ijl Let thy swift footstex^s seek some liap- 

I i)ier bent. 

Why slionld'st not tlioii, as yon great orb of day. 
Sink thy all-ruling state and find thy rest ? 
Than thou more kind, he will not ever sway, 
But woos re^jose in fair Argolis' breast ; 
Whilst thou, poor imitator of his prudent might, 
Ai't not content to cast thy scei^tre dow^n 



ALCIBIADES' SOLILOQUY. 67 

And grant tliy weary subject a respite. 
Why wilt tlion stay Oblivion's gloom, and chain 
my deeds to light ? 

My fate the morrow's certainty unfolds ! 
P Intimation, cd;nst thou speak that fate ? 
That, as the future's speechless veil uprolls. 
Unwonted pride may not this heart elate, 
Or deep emotions to quick eyes attest 
Its crowning passion. In my hungering ear, 
That waits impatiently the banquet blest. 
Is it decreed that happiest throngs shall pour 
The loud acclaim ; or, shall I once more hear 
The fatal murmurs of Charbydis' shore 
That rests unmoved as to its rude embrace 
The winsome tide bears on the bark that soon no 
eye may trace ? 

And thou, broad, restless ^gean ! e'en thj^ might, 
Subdued by i^ale Diana's countless shafts. 
Would say how Hope may inerce thro' Doubt's 

dark night. 
To cheer the bark some blessed promise wafts 
On to its haven. Yon bright pathway's gleam, — 
Fair harbinger of glory's rapturous way, — 
Would guide aright my proud, ambitious dream, 
And Retribution's stern alarms allay. 



68 POEMS. 

In tlie abyss this dark wide waste upbears, 
Forever let Suspicion's impulse stray: 
Whilst I, unshackled from o'er pressing cares, 
Now gaze into its depths profound and crave the 
peace it shares. 

Yet painting e'er that day of joy and dread 
When the majestic fleet lost Piraeus' wall 
And to Sicilian waters onward sped ? 
Or dwellest thou on Athena's sacred call ? 
The deep revenge my raging bosom planned ; 
Then to the foe to seal my country's doom ; 
On to the haughty monarch's breadthless land ; 
There to entreat my birthright's deathless gloom? 
True, reason came with power to attain 
Its lost possession, and its reign assume, 
There to abide and hide the monstrous stain. — 
Say yon inconstant city's voice adjudge that com- 
pact vain ! 

Oh ! let my feet the inspiring bema press, 
Where eloquence so oft usurped my tongue !— 
How yearned my heart its passion to caress, 
When all unheard for Hermae's crime 'twas wrung. 
Wrong shall be banished. Eight shall claim her 

own ; 
And he who from the state's injustice fled 



ECHO. 



69 



Sliall win his country's praise, — in sweetest tone 
From liim who first condemned. For who hath led 
Her fleet trinmx^hant ? Who hath ranged the band 
*Neath the proud banner ? These my cause have 

pled. 
On, then, brave steed by ^gean zephyrs fanned ! 
On, then, brave soul ! fear not the voice of thino 

auspicious land ! 



— ^-K>2^p=2>^>tH — 



ECHO. 







1L-, EEP in the woodland glade 

f,\ Comes Juno's laughing maid, 
!k^i®^^ Now sorrow-blighted ; 

No sportive pastime telling ; 
The crystal jewels welling 

That joy once lighted. 

With frown, from Atthis' land. 
Nemesis, with her wand, 

Too, counseling with her ; 
Till thro' the wild-wood winging 



TO 



Sweet Eelio's tones are ringing — 
Then listening tliitlier 

To where the fount is sleeping, 
A seeret vigil keexnug 

For him comes speeding 
Uueared ; the bright hours wiling ; 
Witli blithesome note beguiling — 

His fate unheeiling. 

Enchained by mystic link, 
To the reiiective brink 

The goddess guides him : 
Ho sighs — he dies — ailoring ; 
The limpid shade imploring 

That in it hides him ! 

And there a lloweret clings. 
A saddening tale it brings ; 

Or, task assuming, 
It beai*s the lover warning, 
To love, no longer scorning 

Narcissus blooming. 



71 




A VESirA 

AYESHA. 

(Soveuth Contury.) 
J 

I YESTiA, when {]io. droail sand-sea 
I"' Us its billow rolls between, 
¥^^ '^'^ ^''^'^^"*^' with somctinio thought for mo, 
Sd ^j This fair rose of Daniaseone. 

Sliaro with it the dnwiTs tirst thonglit ; 
Ft)vtli, wluMi Orient's splendors rise, 
Haste thee, that its sense be taught 
Glories more than his — thine eyes. 

By thee, 'neatli the fc>rvid ray, 
I3o its droo})ing form o'erdewed : 

So its lapsing life may stay, 
To enduring beauty woo'd. 

And when evening shades ap^ioar. 

Linger, that in loneliness 
Faney's bodings, phantomed near, 

Ne'er its fainting strength oppress. 

Then, should words of kind intent 
O'er its state from thee outpour, 

Blessed as t-ry of muezzin sent 
To Natolia's faithful shore 



»2 



rOEMS. 



Comes then, hastening, Ayesha's sigh. 
Saying, nay ! thy heart's true queen 

Kinder, sinee thou art not by, 
Lov'st thy rose of Damascene ! 



— --s^0o<2^^t^Q>^ 



TO THILOMEL. 



(From the FroucL.) 

^ HY -svilt thou, phiintive Phih-)mel, 

Ne'er from tliy sorrow seek relief ? 
To me, who come to share thy grief, 
To me thy heart's emotion tell. 

, I The universe, in brightest shades, 

t. Presents her beauties to beguile ; 

The bowered Dryads hope with smile 
To woo tliee onward to their glades. 




Afar the Northwind's breath expires, 
And thrusts aside his chilling cares ; 
The Earth her verdured mantle wears 

The sky's aglow with beauteous tires ! 



TO PHILOMEL. 

Tor yon Coplialus' love presumes 
With (liiinioiuls Flora to o'erspray ; 
While Zephyr seizes on his way 

Earth's wanton store of rare i)erfumos. 

The birds have ceased their warbling strife 
To catch again thy sad refrain ; 
The hunter stays his hand again, 

Nor thinks to mar tliy guileless life. 

Yet in thy tortured bosom dwell 
The luckless shafts to Fortune left, 
When one a sister's heart had cleft — 

So cruelly she aimed — and well ! 

Alas ! could my sad thought pi^rsuado 
The heaUng past into my heart ! 
Thy griefs are robed with memory's art, 

By present hours are mine arrayed. 

Thy griefs, when Nature quick espies, 
She soothes with fairest prospect spread ; 
Mine are in poignant regions led, 

Where envious Present stops my sighs. 



73 



74 roEMS, 

BEEENICE. 






:c LOW, tliou churlish ice-wiud, blow ! 
Beat, ye angry tempests, beat ! 
-'iiiV'H'u/^/^Witli ceaseless dashiiiQs, torrents, flow ! 
7f5%^ " Think ye to stay his hastening feet ? 

^^ TTliat heeds my brave love, for his step 

is light, 
' And eyes would be dimmed came ho 

not to-night. 

Fly, O drift-wind, over the moor, 

Moaning tales of a gloomy heath, 
Of a faithless track, of a raiment pure, 

A silent sleep and eddied wreath. 
Nay, 'twill stay him not in his eager flight. 

For roses would fade came he not to-night. 

Bemorseful bouglis, be ye lifted high : 
Bespeak my love, for he long delays. 

Pants he ever on ? dost thou know his cry ? 
Hath he sunk to rest in the wild moor-maze ? 

If my love be bound in a cerement white. 

Low, heart, lie thee low on the moor to-night 







ETHEL. 75 

ETHEL. 

(Daughter of Edwiu and Julia.) 

^^EMOANING her ? All, nay ! 
^^imH >|§ 'Twas the good Master called. 
^I'lflV^''^ She heard, and, unappalled 
5f^%^ Nor songht, nor wished delay. 
^^ Oh, unsubmissive deed ! 

Eelentlessly to plead 
To hear the voice that, echoing, died 
away. 

Stayed not. Dow^n to the strand 

"With holy impulse came, 

"Whilst yet her breathed name 
"Was said to the pure band ; 

Their joyous voices told 

How she, to greet the fold, 
Need trustingly but touch their Saviour's hand. 

Darkly the torrent swept. 

She faltered at its brink — 

Angel, skilled but to think 
How shining ways are kept ! — 

He saw her heart distressed, 

And onward swiftly pressed, — 
She, from his bosom, saw its flood o'erstept. 



76 



roi'\]is. 



With iloop solicit-udo 

She roiula his fnco divino ; 

But haply notes no si/^ii 
How sulVerin<^s inny iiitnulo. 

l\)rov(n- h'cod from i)aiu : 

Uupitying" wish — iiiul vnin, 
That sho shoukl sliaro our hours \vith pains ini- 
buctl. 



0>Si^5*X^^ 



ox COXCLUDIXG CICKIWS SfA'Tir PinLLIPIC. 



77 



ON CONCLUDING CICERO'S SIXTH 

niiLLinc. 

^;,|rM|J| LIBERTY, poor flickering, dying flaiiio I 
^Jlkiijj"; O breath of Eloqucnee, whoso liiiincis 
/^ cuduro ! 



name ; 
O Hglit of nations ! gloaming, over 
pure. 




ON CONCLUDING THE FIFTH VOLUME OF 

GIBBON'S "DECLINE AND FiVLL OF 

THE EOIMAN EMriKE." 



f CLOSE thee, vohime, with a pang — 
_ and joy, 

I'^'-i^"'^'!* A. pang at hanishmont from ]\[oslem, 
^u^u Greek : 

^fe Rejoicing I may yet niy thought empkiy 

I AVitli (hxnls and heroes future pages 

speak. 



78 POEMS. 

PAUSANIAS. 

DRAIMATIS PEllSONJL. 

Pausanias, a Spmiaii General. 

TiSAMENUS, a Blviner. 

Lydus, a hoy aUendlnrj Pausanias. 

Scenes— Tho Camp at PlatnRa, then at Byzantiiim, and lastly 
near Spaita, 

Scene I. — Plata'a. A camp at ought. 
Enter Pausanias. 

f ||Wh||* AU. Another day lias gone, 

l|l^ffl'|2 And silent niglit lias curtained o'er our 
1'^^ liost. 



7. -Mr My soul liatli made resolve, ere Pliccbus' 
fj^ car 

^^^ Shall toil the brow of high Citlia3ron's 

mount, 
The haughty foe shall taste our weighty steel, 
And turn him hence in ignominious haste ; 
Or Sparta's sons shall take that longest rest. 
Lydus, attend ! 

Enter Lydus. 
Lydus. Here, lord, to do your pleasure. 
Pau. My gentle helot, didst thou not relate. 



rAUSANJAS. yg 

In sportive manner for tliy comrade's ear, 
How Elea's prophet came into onr camp 
In soiled attire, and rests "with thoughtful mien 
Within its limit ? 

Lyd. 'Tis true, my lord. It was but yester 
eve, — 
The wakeful sentry kept his anxious watch 
To see the heavy hours creep slowly by, — 
When, as yon star that doth the west inflame 
Had sunk to rest, there came, as from the gloom, 
A halting figure. Nothing would it speak 
Save, properly, the word that doth insure 
Our camp's repose and surety 'gainst the foe. 
Him thus the sentry willed to pass him by 
And saw liim lirooding by the cheerful fire. 
Whilst all the phalanx courted soothing sleep. 
There kept he in that same strange attitude, 
Wlien I, at early morn by sleej) renewed, 
Did seek my duties. I did him long observe ; 
And from my musings wove a jesting tale 
To tell my comrades : how tvom Pluto's realm 
A cunning spirit had by trick obtained 
The key that doth unlock the nether world. 
And fled to earth. It was this tale you heard. 
If it doth give offense, your pardon on it. 

Pau. Nay, boy, it matters not. I rather joy 
That thou hast pleasant humor. Canst thou tell 



8o POEMS, 

His name and present business ? 

Lyd. He is a seer, and doth of fate forecast ; 
His name, Tisamenus. 

Pau. Seek liim e'en to the camp's extrejnest 
verge : 
Tell him that Sparta's valiant captain waits, 
And would hold converse. 

Lyd. This will I do and come with much dis- 
patch. [Exeunt. 

Pau. Now may I know the issue of our trials ; 
The great events that by them shall declare. 
Perchance the tongues of ages yet to be 
Shall sound our glories on to infant ears, 
And each shall sigh, that destiny had willed 
Long years of intervention. Perchance a shade 
As deep in hue as that o'er Stygian flood 
Shall blight this happy land, and time shall weep 
And shudder as it ponders ! Lydus draws near, 
In quick attendance on the thoughtful seer. 

Eniej- Tisamenus ; Ltdus keeps the door. 

Welcome, good friend, if haply so you prove. 
Yon harmless boy of thee hath brought report, 
Whose strange complexion bids me seize a hope 
That thou. may st argue from some secret sign 
The fruitful morrow, and what swift result 
Shall crown its dreadful conflict. Tell me this. 



PA USANIAS. 81 

Tis. Dost tliou know me ? 

Pau. Thy name I know, and 'tis Tisamenus. 

Tis, Canst build the structure of thy hopes and 
fears 

On such foundation ? 

Pau, There is a gift by mighty Zeus willed 
To live and mingle in the royal blood 
Of Sparta's kings. Such is this potent gift 
That he can read, as with the stycale's rod, 
The thought that flits portrayed upon each face : 
And by this mean I know thy hidden j)owers. 
Such is the virtue of it. 

Tis. Mine is a gift that far outmatches thine. 
In my fair youth Elea was my state, 
Where, with the swains, the Hyblsen brood I 

chased ; 
Till with ennobling years proud visions came, 
And thirsts for emulation. Thence away 
The Pythian's blessing to obtain, then ask 
Her much sought counsel. Her, with great 

amaze, 
I heard pronounce a fate of much import : 
That in five contests I should victor be. 
No more she'd speak, but I must time abide 
To learn their nature. Yet it hath not been. 
To the Olymi^ic sand from Andros came 
One who o'erthrew me in the heated strife. 



82 POEMS. 

It seemetli then my triumphs must be won 
Upon the bloody tieki : my gleaming sword 
Shall hurl yon myrmidons back to their haunts. 

Pau. But, sir, what of thy rare prophetic gift ? 
It is for that I bade thee to my tent, 

Tis. She that endowed me with my blessed 
hope 
Did grant a blessing that doth it excel, — 
Breathing into my soul a subtle power 
Whereby such things as have not yet seen life 
Stand forth apiDarent. This I'll not impart 
Save for a compensation men adjudge 
Beyond compare. O Spartan, hear thou it : 
To be a fellow of thy honored state 
Is my desire. Attain this by thy speech : 
To all tliy wishes will I then comply ; 
And we, in unison, will teach the foe 
What virtues dwell in heroes. 

Pau. I'll to our generals, and tell them all. 
Stay ! I will soon return. Lydus, away ! 

[Exeunt. 

Tis. This Spartan, tho' a bold one, and ap- 
proved, 
Hath that within him that may well be spared : 
It is the calm that tempts the nautilus ! 
The exigencies that enshroud this time 
Have forced him to the near regards of men : 



rAUSANIAS. 83 

But, when tlio timo of hlissful i:)0!ieo ^\vM come, 
This rigid oak, that bows not to the wind, 
Shall, by the flame insidious hixuiy fans, 
O'er topple in its pride — and shake the earth. 
But soft ! he conies again — and all assent. 

Enter Pattsaniab, Epliors, Generals and Soldiers. 

Pau. Tisamenus, much is your x:)oint discussed, 
And many think your price too much enhanced. 
But, terror of the Median host is such 
That all do yield ; and do their hopes intrust 
To the joined honors of our several hearts. 
What say you of our chances ? 

Tis. For this great honor I do give you thanks; 
And I shall so comport my every act 
To bring a happy issue to our perils. 
Spartans, know this : Yon river that divides 
The gorgeous host from our too eag(^r band 
Would stay your course. Across the turbid tide 
Lurk many dangers. So, e'en to our foe 
Come he to this. We will await him here. 
Asopus dared, his folly shall appear ! 



84 



POEMS. 



Scene II. — Byzantium. — Pausanias, in a 
Persian rohe, banqueting in great magnif- 
icence, surrounded by his officers. — Music. 

Pau. Slaves ! be ye stiU, and list to my com- 
mand. 
FiU with the ruby wine each sparkling cup ! 
Ha ! Ha ! thought we along Asopus side 
That night could ever witness sight like this ? 
Lydus, thou dog, come hence ! What was my 

sj)eech 
When we then dreamed among our foes and 
spoils ? 
Lydus. You bade our Grecian oflficers attend : 
You'd have them see, you said, the Persian's folly ; 
And marvelled he should leave his jDrosperous 

home 
To wTench a homely pittance from our hearths : 
You bade the helots pile the massy spoil 
On countless beasts of strange and unknown 

mould, 
And bear it thence to many a sacred shrine : 
You then bade spread our humble, frugal fare, — 
In mighty contrast to the Persian's pomp, — 
And said the lesson that it did avouch 
Was, that by modest mien and honor's path 
Men are ordained for freedom : — Save your hand I 



PAUSANTAS. 85 

Pau. Nay, fool, I will not strike; — tell on your 
tale. 

Lyd. But, since your brain hath turned with 
glory's pomp ; 
Since yon despise what you did then commend, 
Your friends have from you one by one far flown, 
Till you are, like Laocoon, all entwined 
Within the lawless pleasures of this court. 
I crave thy pardon. Thou didst bid me speak. 

Pau. Out, villian, and call hence Tisameuus ! 

[E.vit Lydus. 
That vile imposter who himself withholds, 
Thinking to check our mirth and pleasant hours ; 
Giving himself much praise, because forsooth 
Some actions he foretold went not amiss. 

Eniei^ Tisamenus. 

Well, citizen, how fares it with thee now ? 

Dost think the iDrice once paid for thy fair words 

Was gain to Sparta ? 

Tis. For my poor coin great riches I have 
gained ; 
The gain to Sparta may not thus allow. 

Pau. Put off thy riddling and sx)eak plainly 
now. 

Tis. 'Twas my ill fortune, one brief year ago. 
To own a state that could no honors boast. 



86 POEMS. 

Bat now o'er happiest Sparta may I roam, 
As her proud son. 

Pau. Know, proud son, thine is a matron gaud- 
ed. 
Of that pertains to riches she hath not : 
She hath a boundless store of arrogance: 
Nought else besides. 

Tis, Pausanias, thou shalt perforce hear me. 
Thou art the sorriest wreck of all these times. 
Like great Diana thou didst climb the sk}^ ; 
And like her thou art sinking all but shorn. 
I tell thee, man, that Sparta marks thy crime : 
She knows thy wild intents, — thy hopes shall die. 
What means this aping of her deadliest foe ? 
Thy flowing robes, rich collars, fragrant wines ? 
"What means this tale the guardian winds bear 

her? 
To wed the monarch's daughter thou wouldst 

give 
Him all domain ? — and, can it then be 
That thing so base had birth on Sparta's soil ? 
I tell thee, madman, how thy sun has set : 
Thy country's summons stays but at the door. — 
Ho ! guards, attend, and bear this traitor hence ! 

[Enter guards^ who bind Pausanias and exeunt. 



PAUSANIAS. 87 

ScEiSTE III. — Sparta, near the Temple in Minerva's 
Grove. 
Eater Pausantas, disguised. A hoy dis- 
guised. 

Pau. Tell me, good Lydiis, is't not by this wood 
That great Minerva k(?eps her solemn state ? 

Lyd. Methinks we should be near it. 

Pau. O dreadful bolt that rived yon knotty 
oak ! 
Why dost thou pass me by to vent thy spleen 
On that which gladdens nature '? Why blast 

there 
And I stand by unharmed ? O Jupiter, 
Send thy shaft next into this hateful breast — 
This life detestable ! Ope now thy hand ! 
Oft have I viewed the hurrying lightning's play. 
And heard Jove's thunders sounded earth around 
In breathless wonderment. Boy, fearest thou 

not? 
When I was of thy fresh and tender age, 
'Twas of all deeds most fearful : wiser grown 
The fancies of that age yet ever stayed. 
Using that expedition it retains, 
It cannot now break thro' this wall too soon ! 

Ltd. I pray thee, that thou shouldst not yet 
desi^air. 



88 POEMS. 

There are sncli sliiftiugs in this world of ours 
Tliat Fortune's gifts lie strewed upon our paths 
Where least expected. Bid thy courage up ! 
Here is the Temple : we will fly to it. 
And, dying at Minerva's feet, thus gain 
Immortal honors elsewhere sought in vain ! 

Enter citizens lolio wall the entrances to the Temple. 

CANST THOU FOKGET ? 
Jf^'^ ANST thou forget ? Ah, say 'tis joyous 
jljPl^ej^ Green every field, and rustling every 



t{ 



bower. 



K 



15 

fji^ No song save thine can sweetest song- 

ster bring ; 
No voice save thine can waken every 
flower. 
The harebell thus : Why, fondest, stayest thou yet? 
Dost think then, harebell, that we can — forget ? 

Canst thou forget ? Ah, say 'tis summer come. 
We woo, outstretched, the shriveling stream* 
whose note 



CANST THOU FORGET. 89 

Makes harmony with restless insects' hum, 
And fancies shape where fleecy atoms float : 

Yon structure bokl is fair — none fairer, yet 

'Twas planned for thee. Dost think we can — 
forget ? 

Canst thou forget ? Ah, say 'tis autumn, dyed 
And trophied o'er with deep-hued leaf and tree. 

We turn afield— then stay, for one beside : 
Mem'ry's illusion, fondest, 'twas for thee ! 

Apart, with oft communings, stores we set, 

Full for thy sake. How^ canst thou say— forget ? 

Canst thou forget ? Ah, say 'tis wdnter drear. 

We mutely stray, that Nature may not wiike ; 
We stoop and flaked trac'ries now appear. 

Wouldst know the characters our musings 
make ? 
A name. Why, fondest, this is thine ! this yet ! 

For hearts guide hands. Dost think we can — 
forget ? 
Canst thou forget ? Aye, when yon matchless 
light 

Forgets to gleam far into ether space ! 
It shall be then thou'lt fade from memory's sight, 

Then cease to phantom each familiar place. 
Thy doubt hath wronged us, fondest: never yet,— 
Mine eyes are dark'ning, — need to say — forget. 



90 



POEMS. 



INVITATION TO .^.NEAS TO TARRY AT 
DELOS. 

^•E<7^^ IS of Delos wc siii£v, of tlio bride of the 
|,gj^ i AViiters, 

>^r-% Haply set on the crest of the soft 



fjN .^gean wave ; 

How joyous the strain when Mnemo- 
syne's daughters 
Sing of Dolos, whose footstool the 
blue waters lave ! 



See ! all Cyclados stand as in haste to embrace it, 

'Tis to lovingly shield it from Boreas' wiles. 
They his keen blasts have kept, that its cliarma 
ever grace it ; 
By them borne his frowns, for it treasured his 
smiles. 

Aphrodite's bold sou, shun Ausonia's dominions, 
Whore the swords now unsheathed to bright 
bucklers resound ; 
Let thy flying steed rest, folded be her broad 
pinions, — 
'Tis for thee at fair Dolos the banquet is 
crowned. 



INVITATION TO yENEAS TO TARRY AT DELOS. qj 

Harpies eye thee askance, fell Cyclopean strangers 
Now would wave tlieo to isles favored, seeming- 
ly fair ; 
Troubles lurk in tlieir groves, in their atmosphere 
dangers, 
And the sirens are false as the smile that they 
wear. 

The brazen beak turns not ; cruel Fate him em- 
powers. 
On, then, tempt. Sidon's qnecu with illusive de- 
lights ! 
O most godlike of men, borne from Ilium's towers, 
Why range the seas longer when Delos invites ? 



- --■<[><D<^s^ii5so<>i>^->- 



92 



POEMS. 

THE TWILIGHT HOUE. 

^?TSl^ ^^'^ tnmnltuoiis Day, soon flown 

With his thronging, boisterous 
train, 
Wrapt in roseatc-huod disguise, 

Paints the sky witli daintiest stain, 
Wlien the gentle z.ephyrs rise, 

Be that hour thine own. 

'Tis the hour of cahn repose ; 

Tranquil influences breathe ; 
Then each passit)n sinks to rest, 

And Hope's frailest tendril-wreath, 
Crushed till then within the breast. 
Upward coyly grows. 

Unimpassioned, thou'lt re\dew 
Many a heedless word outspoken ; 

Deeds that then seem veriest madness ; 
Tenderest friendship aU but broken ; 

And once more, with sense of sadness. 
All thy vows renew. 

Watch through twilight's soft decline ; 

See the future's thread unroll'd ; 
Keep the hour that seemeth lonely — 

'Twill to thee thy worth unfold : 

Fellowship'd with conscience only. 

Guard that hour as thine. 



LA FLEUR. 

LA FLEUE. 

(From the French.) 

ADING and solitary flower, 
Once x^i'itle of all tlie dale, 



93 



^^^4^ Behold thy dower with ruthless 

power 
^ Disx^elled by every gale ! 

^ Fate thus from many a mortal reaps, 

We're kindred save in name, — 

A zephyr sweeps, the leaflet leaps — 
Past pleasure whilst it came. 

Each day that lingers wdth the past 
Some cherished dream enfolds ; 

'Twas fairly cast, yet, like the last, 
A fancied dream withholds. 

Till wondering mortals, stirr'd by grief 

At retrospective hours. 
Ask why, beneath, is life so brief 

To ecstasy and flowers ? 



r^^<^}oQS^^DoQ>^' 



94 POEMS. 

LINES TO THE ALABAMA KIVEE. 

_ JL LOW on, mysterious torrent, by the 
^il p might 

^^'^y^ That taught thee first to thread yon 

deep recess ; 
11^ Roll onward, in thy stern and sluggish 

flight,— 
Toward ocean press ! 

Perchance some crystal lakelet was the source 
From whence thy life was drawn, with murmur- 
ing tone, 

Unheedful of a future's tortuous course — 
So vast, so lone ! 

Lnpatient then in all thy glimmering length, 
Didst thou not scorn thy toils, as oft waylaid 

Some noisome fen usurped thy lusty strength — 
Else festooned glade ? 

Yet onward surged ; their destinies enhance 
Thy murky volume by a near embrace ; 

Then onward flow'd thro' Forest's still expanse 
With faltering pace. 

To know thee first beneath the breathless night I 
How solemn, how unpitying, dost thou seem : 



LINES TO THE ALABAMA RIVER. 95 

Again to view tliee by the glittering light, 
Or mellowest beam ! 

And note the changeful shapes its rays entice ; 

The weird phantasms that thy currents yield. 
E'en thus, methinks, with many a quaint device 

Glow'd Thetis' shield ! 

As Oceanus there in wide confine 

Shut in the varied tale of valorous deeds, 

So dark magnolia's form thou mayst divine 
Midst quivering reeds. 

Flow on, O Alabama, by the might 

That won to thee this deadly wilderness ! 

None shall disjiute with thee a sovereign's right 
Here to oppress ! 

Mobile. 



^-^<3<^2^^M>^^-' 



96 



POEMS. 




THE COMPLAINT. 

(After " La Fenille " of Arnault.) 

OEN from the bougli, 

Sped o'er tlie heath, 
. Where goest thou, 

Poor, withering leaf ? 
I cannot tell ! 
With unremitting stroke 
The wind hath dashed our oak, 
And chants my knell ! 

Soon life shall cease ! 

Now here, now there. 
At his caprice 

Borne on the air. 
To plead were vain. 
Submissively I sweep 
By mountain top, or creep 
Low in the plain ! 

E'er thus to be ? 

Unsparing lot ! 

Nor rest for me ? 

O, breathe it not ! 
As I must all — 
The humblest herb that blows, 
Dark laurel, fragrant rose, 
Untimely fall ? 




LITTLE MAID OF ANGLESEY. 97 

LITTLE MAID OF ANGLESEY. 

(Welsh Ballad.) 



ITTLE maid of Anglesey, 
■^ How dream-like now it seems to me I 



Behind, the evening vesper toU'd ; 
Before, the Biscan billow roll'd ; 
And I Avas borne to lands unknown. 
And you were left to weep — alone. 

Little maid of Anglesey, 
From far adown the Avestern sky 
There came a messenger to me : 
It was a last, a lingering tie ; 
It was that band of molten gold, 

Just blending with the shades of night, 
Reflected from thy tresses, told 

Who Avatched — a fareAvell, signal light. 

Littler maid of Anglesey, 
My heart that eve Avas full of thee : 
For Avhen that beacon ceased its flame 
A thousand grateful memories came 
From days bygone ; and, pondering long 
BoAved down, I met the gathering throng. 
I vieAved again the tapering spire ; 



98 POEMS. 

I caught the accents of the choir ; 
The master's word, the near appeal, 
(How oft the errant eye would steal 
To one who listened at my side, 
With holiest impulses to guide !) 
The little cot, the rose-wreathed door, 
The hill-side patli, the oft-trod shore ; 
The evening pastime on the green — 
I lived them o'er — each treasured scene. 

Little maid of Angiese^', 

Fair maidens dwell in Normandy ; 

And eyes there be that swiftly glance, 

And tones of softest breathings sigh, 
And feet to merry measures dance 

Where fuD the yellow harvests lie. 
I've met the glance to scorn its spell ; 

The sigh passed as the idle wind ; 
I knew no lover's tale to tell, 

As through the mazy dance we twined. 

Little maid of Anglesey, 

Back, back the good shij) came to thee. 

My heart, my beating heart, was true, 

And all its beatings, as she flew. 

Were that the lingering doubts of years 

Might prove as idle as its fears ; 

And as she onward flew, and fast. 



TO BROTHER. 



99 



Again my eyes, as in the past, 

This rock with eager questionings sought, 

To know another ray had caught 

Thy tresses' gleam from oat the night — 

An ever-faithful, guiding light ! 



--<K><^^^^2K>€-^^ — 




TO BROTHEE. 

3 OULD, l)rother, would that ever thus 
Through life's uncertain weather, 
Would it might ever be for us 

To wander on together ! 
Thus ever onward, side by side, 
Thy voice to cheer, my hand to 
guide. 



Would, brother, that thy kindly eye 
Might never beam less brightly ! 

Would that thy heart might ever lie 
Within its cell so lightly ! 

And be life's canopy to you 

Thy cheek's own blushing, happy hue ! 



lOO POEMS. 

In glory walks our autumn day, 
And faultless, to your reason : 

So, brother, be tliy far-away — 
That ever-present season. 

Be thus its by-ways broad and sure 

Above, its vapory realms as pure. 

And if it be, for one, thine arm 
To point iintrod direction ; 

To shelter from a fancied harm, — 
A brother's own protection, — 

Then for him be that love of thine 

As steadfast as for thee is mine ! 



-^?x3<^=^» 




THE FAILURE. 

THE FAILURE. 

^^''_ANG out the red flag 

(That ominous token 
Of plans never realized, 
Contracts all broken), 
Roll down the shutters ; 

The occupant's fled 
Where he heeds not anathemas 
Hurled at his head ! 
'Twas a desperate affray, — 
And the wise self -debater 
Saw fate must subdue him, 
Were it sooner or later, — 
He struggled in silence, 
No pang would reveal, 
But ever an Ixion 

Writhed at the wheel. 
AVliat ho did do Avas this, 

(And with reason enough), 
He fled from the world — 
And the w^orld's cold rebuff. 



Now, down with his books — 
Let their pages be scanned ! 

Let us see how he ciphered, 
How reasoned and planned. 



POEMS. 

What a wonderful fabric 

Of imfinislied scheming- ! 
What a gossamer structure 

Of fanciful dreaming ! 
What a record of error ! 

What a desperate showing ! 
What a pittance is due ! 

What a mountain is owing ! 
Now on and yet on 

Staring characters stand ; 
First set, then erased 

With a tremulous hand, 
W^ith a wild, throbbing brain 

And a quick beating pulse, 
But the truth would remain 

With its changeless results ! 

So the books are far flung. 

And the tenant has flown. 
But where did he go ? 

Ah ! that secret's his own. 
Hand the calendar down ! 

Add his name to tlie list ! 
From the world's busy train 

He's already dismissed ! 
But the eye, all-enchained. 

Now amazedly pauses : 



THE FAILURE. 103 

What a blundering throng ! 

What astonishing causes ! 
Read the record far up, 

To the top and the first, 
And of all the disastrous 

This last is the worst ! 
This one toiled on for knowledge, 

Fed his hunger for learning ; 
For far-sounding plaudits, 

This failure was yearning ; 
This one gTasped out for riches — 

And saw them depart ; 
This one i^layed for a bubble — 

A cold, ashen heart ! 
This one tasted ambition — 

'Mid turmoil and strifp : 
But his was the saddest — 

The failure of life ! 



I04 



POEMS. 



TELL ME, GOOD LADY-MOTHER, WHY. 



ELL me, good Liidy-inotlier, wliy 
The zephyr's laugh is still'd. 
K I like not its foreboding sigh, — - 

My \Qvy heart is chill'd. 
My child, the evening-breezes light, 
Alarmed, fly the winds of night. 



Tell me, good Lady-mother, Avliy 

The gentle moonbeams fade. 
Why should yon cloudlet hast'uing by 
Enfold them in its shade ? 
My child, a symbol 'tis, unfurled, 
From storm-cloud to the zenith whirl'd. 




Tell me, good Lady-mother, why 

Tlie fitful gleam is near. 
Its vivid dill-tings, flaming high, 
Oppress my heart with fear. 
My child, it is the lightning's glare 
Whose purity shall linger there. 

Tell me, good Lady-mother, wli}^ 
So dark it seems — and strange. 
Why lowers so the sparkling sky ? 



TELL ME, GOOD LADY-MOTHER, WHY. 

I do not like the change. 
My child, it is the blessed rain 
That brighter makes the sky again. 

Tell me, good Lady-mother, why 

These smiles your features wreathe. 
Why falls the hand, why dims the eye ? 
Is it the changeful eve '? 
Rains sobb'd ; skies flamed in tempest Avild- 
Nor answer else came to the child. 



[05 



- - '--^<f}<<2S^^i«I>>2>t?-<>- 



'^m 



IC6 POEMS. 



SONNET. 

(To my sister, with a copy of Shakespeare's Works.) 

's^^Pplj^ HEN, from the varying phases of the 

'^ !^V;\^'^i?Thou'dst seek companionship for every 

' mood, 

Jiff^ Open these pages, and behold enshrined 

yr A smile for gladness, tears for solitude. 

\j Withia these narrow bounds thoult 

iind, at best, 
The subtlest strains the soul divine hath play'd — 
What deep emotions told ! what doubts express'd ! 
And every fault with just exactness weighed ! 
Call it a garden, blooming with sweet thought, 
Whose true complexion serves but to inspire : 
Within its pale each rarest flower is taught 
To shed a fragrance that it holds entire. 
So, if this garden thy quick sense attain, 
Thou'lt fly all meads, and cra\ing come again. 



— -M]-^2s^ 



THE STAR OF FRIENDSHIP. 



107 




THE STAR OF FRIENDSHIP. 

I'? 

(1(1^ HEN forth, again, upon the main 

Tlio voy'ger tempts stern Ocean's 

f^- ^vratll, 

\, Tlio' headland fade, yet, undismayed, 
He threads the crested path. 
Nor fears ; and why ? There, gleaming 
high, 
Behokl the index to his way ! 

When e'er he turns, there ever burns 
That calm, celestial ray. 

The Pole Star's T)eani it is, whose gleam 
Emboldens all his fond desires : 

He bounds the waste with ardent haste. 
If kindled be its fires. 

Should, now, his bark thro' regions dark 
Pursue the Northwind to his lair, 

'Twill upward rise, surmount the skies, 
And glow, yet purer, there. 

If, now, the helm to sunniest realm 

The ever restive voy'ger brings, 
It downward wends, with ocean blends, — 

Yet near to memory clings. 



loS POEMS. 

What tlio' it siuk beneath the brink 

And perish to his earnest gaze '? 
He, wistful, sure, proclaims how i^nre, 
How quenchless is its blaze ! 

Thus Friondsliip's star. It shines afar, 
Assuring up life's treacherous zone : 

Let climates smile, it lives the while 
With constancy its own. 

BELATED. 

; HEN, wandering from his cherished 
nest, 
cii The sM-allow seeks the needful rest 
That thick'ning nightfall brings. 
He, conscious of a watchful Power, 
Forgets the darkness o( the hour — 
xlnd folds his wearied wings. 

Nor yet laments his home the less ; 
But sleeps, that he at dawn may press 

On ere his 1ov(h1 one wake : 
That when the gilded morn shall burst 
He, of all eager songsters first, 

His homeward flight may talie. 




r - 



THE CHANGIXG OF THE TIDES. 109 

THE CHANGING OF THE TIDES. 

f At the rising of the tides the vessels float away into deep 
water, aud the impatieut lishcrmeu dihgently ply their vocatiou.] 

I" SLEEP no more ! be true ! comrades, 
\ aM-akeii ! 

^f^ The hour, so near the last, is full 
upon us ! 
'itli ](n-ing arms tlie sea our bark hath 

taken : 
Let us make ours the fruit our watch 
hath won us. 
To slumber now, fair fortune 'twere despising. 
Then, comrades, up ! the tide, the tide is rising- ! 

This weary stay our very hearts would sicken. 

How blest the time the waters are foretelling ! 
If marked its healthful hue, your hearts will 
quicken ; 
See how the limpid waves come ever swelling ! 
For us a harvest full they seem devising. 
Then, comrades, up ! the tide, the tide is rising ! 

* * * * ^ * 

O, cheerily, the harvest spreads before us ! 

Forget, forget the hours of aimless leisure ! 
Such hours as this to fortune must restore us ; 

And to repletion hoard our bark with treasure. 



no POEMS. 

'Twas for this golden hour our hearts were yearning. 
Then, comrades, haste ! the tide, the tide is turn- 
ing ! 

'Twill soon be gone — be gone past our availing. 

How deeply ever after would we sorrow ! 
O, constant let us be, tho' strength seem failing : 
Our care shall vanish, joying on the morrow ! 
Bid all allurements hence, with lofty spurning : 
O comrades, toil ! the tide, the tide is turning ! 

* * -X- ■?«• -H- -St 

How distant seems our listlessness, our strain- 
ing ! 
Let's speak it o'er ; we'll call it but our dream- 
ing. 
We glide adown, empurpled day is Avaning, 
And far away our eddying path is gleaming ; 
Our hearts are very light, glad tones are calling. 
We heed not, comrades, tho' the tide be falling ! 

Our careless days are come, our toils sur- 
mounted ; 
Nor think we longer of the frequent changing. 
Our store is all within, untold, uncounted ; 
And we may sleep whilst those who slept are 
ranging. 
Did we not well, O comrades, thus forestalling 
The changeful tides — the rising, turning, falling ? 




IN REMEMBRANCE. 



IN EEMEMBKANCE. 

I OW shall I set a guard about my soul, 

To be at once a strong and sure 
'^^ defense ? 

As on the long, unnumbered years 
shall roll, 
How shall I shield each now un- 
sullied sense ? 



Of a perfection riv'Uing human art, 

I'll place an image in some secret shrine ; 

I have no dearer shrine than this pure heart. 
And it, receptive, makes that image — thine. 

Then sweet remembrances, — thy rightful due, — 
Like jDrecious incense round that cell shall 
wreathe ; 

The measure of all worth shall be in hue 

Those harmonies that I have heard thee breathe. 

How can my feet leave Honor's flowery path, 
Whilst, thus inshrin'd, thou hold'st that peerless 
IDlace ? 
How tread the weeds that Vice's broad way hath, 
In some base plain that thou wouldst scorn to 
Gfrace ? 



112 FOE 31 S. 

In baneful revelry should sense cleliglit, 
Or tongue lend accent to the ribald jest, 

I'd ponder but thine eyes' reproachful bhglit — 
That stain might find no harbor in this breast. 

Nor could this hand in harsh oppression fall 
(Should lowliness attain to higli estate), 

In soft repose 'twould stay, whilst I recall 

When it, of thine, had summ'd the gracious 
weight. 

These are but idle thoughts — have ceased to live ; 

Such mean conceptions may not long abide : 
Dishonor shall not win, I will not give 

The sacristy thou keepest at my side. 

Such is the guard I'll set about my soul, 
Since it so tends to be my soul's defense. 

Come, long, unnumbered years ! whilst ye shall 
roll, 
A shield is set for each unsullied sense. 



----K^K^ 



A THOUGHTLESS, BITTER WORD, <Cc. 



113 



A THOUGHTLESS, BITTER WORD— TOO, 
HALF IN JEST. 

Ijl^^li; THOUGHTLESS, bitter word — too, 
"SilS lialf in jest, 

^ W^^ Above the sea crests' breaking scarcely 
%W rang. 

,la,l But, then, it pierced the heart by mine 

'1^ loved best — 

' Yea, pierced it with a needless, cruel 

pang. 
A starting, as the varying colors rise ; 

A dainty foot at toyings with the sand ; 
An instant's look of questioning, sad surprise ; 
A failing gesture, — parted, hand from hand. 



-^-^<0<^SB^=^^5>(S>- — 



14 POEMS. 

MAEJOEIE. 



1 




I- ITTLE Marjorie, Marjorie mine, 

Why do YOU sink in the velvet grass ? 
Why are you so secret in your design ? 
Come, show me that roguish face of 
thine. 
Why, why is this ? Little sunshine lass, 
On your dimpled cheek there's a glister- 
ing tear ; 
Your tremulous voice I can scarcely 
hear. 

'* Of the fuschia you've broken the tender stalk. 
As you swept it by in your heedless chase." 

There are fuschias yet by the garden walk, 
And myriads more in yon sunny space, 

That come of a loftier, haughtier race. 

Then brush the drops from your sparkling eyes : 

I'll lead you to others of richer dyes. 

Ah ! ** The loftier ones — you are careless of them. " 
And weeping again as your heart would break. 

This w^as at best but an arrogant stem, 
And small is the worth of the life you take, 
•' But it loved you so, for your own, own sake." 

" You granted it life by the pathway edge, 

And, grievingly, call it a broken i^ledge." 



0, FLY THOSE MUSIC-BREATHIXG HALLS! ne 

Little Marjorie, Marjorie mine, 

Soon to walk life's path with a measured pace, 
Will your eyes ever grief like this inshrine, 

As you bow clown a heart in some wayside place, 
That dared to hope on, by your thoughtless gi-ace ? 
There's a dangerous light in your clearing eyes, 
And your cheek with the crimson fuschia vies ! 



^-K}o<2«^ 



o. 



FLY THOSE MUSIC-BREATHING 
HALLS ! 



>-ck 




FLY those music-breathing halls, 

Mov'd by the soft, erotic flame ! 
To thee a sea of silver calls, 
And echos but thy name. 
Here for a time thy stay I would 
entreat, 
If thou wouldst hear the cadences 
that break 
In lingering, piteous pleadings at my feet : 
She waits— she waits for thee and dear Love's 
sake ! 



Il6 POEMS. 

Fly, fly on Love's swift wings : for, list ! 

A 'witching strain now floats above : 
Too soon thy beanty shall be miss'd, — 
They'll say, th' art fled with Love. 
0, see for thee how thickly stars are spread ! 
They w^ait to catch the plea yon wave shall 
make 
As I have heard it here so often i)led : 

She waits — she w^aits for thee and dear Love's 
sake ! 

Then fly the halls of mirth and wine, 

Led forth in Love's persnasive name ! 
O, bend thine eager steps to mine — 
Led by Love's guiding flame ! 
Now thou art come, I fear I did deceive thee : 

What cadences are theirs from me they take. 
Then, dare my trembling hope in this believe 
thee, 
Fly, Love ! O, fly for her — for her dear sake ! 




LOVE'S INDEX. nj 

LOVE'S INDEX. 

HAPPY, happy fate 

That brought me to the wood ! 
To the rustling, leafy bower 
Of my lady fair and good ! 
I'll come within its shade and 
wait, — 
For soon she will appear. 
I win or lose, this sunny hour, 
My lady coming near ! 

Some flow'ret to caress 
She stops the way beside. 

dear volume that she read ! 
Let me from my ambush glide. 

'Tis a poor lover in distress 

Upon its page that speaks. 
O, let me learn then how he pled, 

Ere she her bower seeks ! 

1 open and behold 

The all-absorbing text : 
How the lover long laments — 

To my heart I lay it next. 
*Tis there, where 'tis so sweetly told, 

My dew'd syringas rest — 



1 1 8 POEMS. 

And where loug- waiting love consents 
My parting violet's pressed ! 

"I love but thee alone." 

O violet, kiss the spot ! 
Let me to my ambush steal — 

That I gaze she'll know it not 
Until I claim her for my OAvn. 

She reads — O blushes rare ! 
I need no more my love conceal — 

My lady sees it there ! 



«<>G>€-->- 




BEDOUIN ROBBER AND STEED. 

|-L-TIEMAN, Il-Tieman, and wilt thon 
quickly rise '? 
For see ! the rosy-tinted morn flames 

up the eastern skies. 
I will offer up in Allah's name the 

morning's glad devotion : 
Before the burning sunbeams come 
across the Indus ocean 
I'll grasj) my scimitar and spear, my corselet round 

me fling ; 
And then, my ardent Arab-steed, upon thy back 
I'll spring ! 

Il-Tieman, Il-Tieman, whilst I slept into my dream 
There came a vision of a sj^oil from Oman's pearly 

stream. 
My heart in secret rapture melts with its bliss and 

happiness ! 
O princely steed, be ever true, as we o'er the 

desert press ! 
For we may wrest a goodly gain ere the glowing 

day is spent, 
And spread it forth for wondering eyes in Mok- 

allana's tent. 



J20 POEMS. 

Il-Tieman, Il-Tiemau, tliou hast found me ever- 
kind ; 

So when thou hear'st my low command, then be 
fleeter than the wind. 

I will breathe it in thine ear as I far away dis- 
cover 

The stranger's form, — nor by him seen. When 
dusky eve shall hover, 

Then let him sink again to dream of founts and 
beds of flowers, 

And his deep slumber shall be Death's — and his 
dreamings shall be ours. 

Il-Tieman, Il-Tieman, thou dost bound and proud- 
ly neigh. 

Fly from Eas-Fartak's rocky coast to Al-Akof's 
Inllowy way ! 

Frankincense fresh from balmy shores and gems 
from Muscat's mart, — 

If thou faint not, of these, my steed, thine be a 
gracious part ! 

On ! on ! thou ardent Arab-steed, upon thy back 
I spring ! 

Thy neck shall win a soft caress, thine ear witk 
praises ring ! 



THE WATCHER. 121 

THE WATCHER. 

STKANGEll. 

AIDEN of the nightly shade, 

Why thy cheek so wan and pale 
.; By the dews of night o'ersprayed ? 
Gliding from the darkling vale, 
\ Shall Aurora of the dawn 

Ever greet thee wan and worn V 

PHANTOM. 

O, believe its pallid hue 

Finds within no answering chill ; 
And the pearly drops of dew 
Crystals are the airs distil ! 
Are the hours so nearly gone, 
Envious Mother of the morn '? 




STEANGEE. 

Maiden, why thy couch forswear, 

And these lonely vigils keep ? 

Harmful gifts the dark winds bear. 

Haste thee to a j^eaceful sleep. 

Let thy night in dreams consume. 
Dian, watcher, doth illume ! 



POEMS. 
PHANTOM. 

Through the silvery festoons, knit. 
Turn thine earnest, upward gaze. 
Note her, ever changing, flit, — 
So inconstantly she stays ! 
Musing in expectant bliss, 
Speeds Endj^mion to kiss. 

STKANGER. 

Maiden, what imports it thee. 

Lustrous night and moonbeam's glance? 
Why shouldst thou the watcher be 

Where wood-nymph and dryad dance ? 
Of some treasure art bereft 
Near the shadowy mountain-cleft ? 

PHANTOM. 

Where the last, long shadow dies, — 

Telling how the day is old, — 
All-concealed my treasure lies 
In the secret, darksome wold. 

Fawn and wood-nymph may not know 
Where my heart is buried low^ ! 

STRANGER. 

Maiden, hath the priceless heart 
Fled thy deeply stricken breast ? 



THE WATCHER. 

'Tis some phantom then thou art, 
Want'ning with thy nightly rest ! 
Choosing hours that noisome be 
For tliine errant misery. 

PHANTOM'. 

Yes, 'twas priceless : yet I gave, 

Gave the heart that once v\'as there. 
Deep they laid them in a grave — 
Laid my heart and lover fair ! 
Ever nightly watch I keep 
Where my heart and lover sleep ! 



[23 



— ^-^^05^s=iK^€^- 




1124 POEMS. 



SONNET. 

L IDST ever thread, in the low Southern 

lif' ^^^^' 

^' Some forest deep in sombre mosses 
clad, 
Until the sj^irit sank, subdued and sad ? 
And, O what rapture ! when, unthought, 
unknown. 

To burst into some glade where sunbeam shone ; 
Where orange flower, and chaste magnolia bade 
The wearied traveller stay, and, too, be glad 
And its endearing features make his own. 
Thus, Edna, had my tortuous byway wound 
Xiife's forestal and dusky depths, unlearned : 
I sighed its ^^•ide expanse had set no bound, 
Till to ,thy bright existence I had turned. 
Eor its compare, for scope with graces crowned, 
No sylvan scene this eye hath yet discerned. 



<^-^<J^S^^€>^Q>%-o 




DAVID AND ABSALOM. 125; 

DAVID AND ABSALOM. 

("And the King commanded: Deal gently, lor my Bake, with 
the young man — even with Absalom.") 

HY doth high royalty forget its state, 
Cooling its feverish brow on frowning- 
walls ? 
"Why doth it loiter by the ponderous 
gate ? 
Why start anew as hurrying footstep 
falls ? 

And whence the apprehension that appalls 
The kingly face of him in kingly guise, 
Keeping his watch with fearful, constant eyes ? 

O monstrous deed ! the fratricidal hand 
Now lifts to strike a father's form to earth. 

Audacious pride has seen in dreams the wand 
Wrenched from the grasp of him who gave it. 

birth, 
Thinking to gild a manhood's fruitless worth : 

And now with foul intent, by folly led, 

Seeks e'en the crown on the anointed head ! 

The mandate has gone forth : " Ye of the Lord 

For Israel's king, and Israel's kingdom, arm !' 
And loyal breasts had flamed with true accord 



126 POEMS. 

To shield the monarch from the threatening 

harm ; 
Yet his great captain, Joab, vaHant, calm, 
Bears from those lips the trembling, low attest : 
* ' Would ye might spare him of my house lov'd 
best !" 

And Joab had gone forth with conquering 
j)ower, 
Sinking ere noon-tide from the royal sight. 
Time onward speeds and soon must come the 
hour 
To tell him if the battle went aright ; 
And if the Lord yet tarried in his might. 
For this it is he watches at the gate- 
Forgetting self and dignity of state. 

Yet comes no missive from the struggling field. 
And day o'er Palestine with eve is blending : 

And who the victory claims yet unrevealed 

To him who feels within his breast contending 
Desire for vengeance on the oft oftending ; 

Then by a father's instinct decider stirred 

Almost forgives^ — forgetting how he erred. 

But whence the cloud that in tli' horizon shows ? 

Surely no tempest mars the waning day ? 
Ever it moves, and with each instant grows : 



DAVID AND ABSALOM. 



127 



It must be — 'tis a lierald comes his way 
Bringing good tidings of the ended fray ! 
He comes alone ! Auspicious tale expect, 
How all goes well, and serried ranks unchecked. 

Swiftly the runner leaps the fiery plain : 
Anon into tlie royal presence burst : 

" Great tidings bring I, King, of thousands slain ! 
And be rebellion ever thus accurst ! 
And death to him whose arm is lifted first !" 

One smile of triumph doth that face illume 

And then a darkest aspect doth assume. 

" Arise, thou panting herald, tell me, too, 
What tidings else beside the battle won. 

Bring they my captive foe in chains to sue ? 
My captive foe ! stern fate ! my yet loved son 
Too early taught the honored way to slmn ! 

Then let him come to meet a chastening hand. 

And learn they rue who slight a king's command." 

With awe the subject hears, steps back apace, 
Viewing the face Avliere mounting wrath held 
sway. 
Wrought to its pitch by thought of how disgrace 
Must tarnish all the honor of that day, 
When conquering hosts in pomp and war's 
array, 



128 POEMS. 

Pass by their king ^vith hyinn and prayer devout> 
With banner spread to joyous victor's shout. 

He answering : ' ' Israel's ]<.ing I saw him not ; 

I waited but to see the conflict turn ; 
Thence speeded here in eager haste, and hot, 

Bringing such tidings as ye do but learn. 

And yet, methinks, so valiant son would spurn 
Long to outlive the all-disastrous strife — 
Setting no value to his hopeless life ! 

The king hears not : his gaze afar is fixed 
Low, where the desert knits the flaming sky : 

There, there, befoamed, the gate and sky betwixt, 
The Cuslii comes ! so swiftly comes he nigh, 
'Tis with an eaglet's wing lie seems to fly ; 

Is near — is here — now in the presence kneels. 

And gasping speaks — the tidings all reveals. 

"Fierce was the battle, but the Lord prevailed ! 
Far fled the foe, and scattered as the chaH' 

When by Siroccos's deadly breath assailed— 
So are tliy foes before thy servant's wrath 
Blighted and whitening in rebellion's path ! 

And be it thus with all who scorn thy sway — 

The sleep of Ephraim's wood — in death's decay !" 

And David wejDt — his parent heart undone, 
" Would I had died, O Absalom, my son !" 



^I^'^: 







SUNSHINE IN WINTER. 

SUNSHINE IN WINTER. 

INTER drear with Summer's smile : 
And we, joyous as the weather, 
Listening to the waves the while 
Rippling round the nestling isle. 
Pace the sands together. 



Bound in none save Fancy's chain 
'Neath the frowning castle's wall ; 

Questioning tokens from the main 

As they come, to go again — 
And the shadows fall. 

Sinks the sun to wonted rest ; 

Bathes in warmth the chilling sea ; 
Silent we, each thought suppress'd 
As he nears the glowing west — 

Rich in imagery. 

Ere the parting rays be told 

See them, lingering, softly lie 

On my darling's brow of gold : 

So, so nearly they enfold — 
Seeming loth to die. 

List ! the deep and sullen boom ! 
'Tis the day's dej^arting note. 



[29 



POEMS. 

In assurance of its doom, 
Tlirougli the ever-gathering gloom 
Answering echoes float. 

Longer linger ere I seek 

Where may wandering fancy be ? 
Lest untimely word I speak, 
Bending low but touch the cheek — 

Breaks the reverie. 

Shine, O mellow moon and mild ! 

Be the homeward way pursued ! 
From the wintry day that smiled 
Tenderly I lead the child — 

By its thought subdued. 



-.^02^5S-i>.Q>^- 




THE AN A DEM. j^j 

THE ANADEM. 

HIS anadem, by age beset, 
Was once a regal coronet. 
You ask me how, and when, and where ? 

Well, well ! perhaps for me 'twere best 
To veil that Paradise, and there 

Bid Memory, nnrekindled, rest ! 
Nor feeding on the Past, again forget. 

Nay? Be it told? This dower. 
With all its wealth of faded flower, 
Was shaped for royalty. O now 

The mists dispel ; the taper light 
Of memory burns ; once more embrow 
The May -Day Queen with many a rite, 
With profuse, mimic pomp and well-feigned power. 

Yes, 'twas the springtime. Did I care 
I might portray its charms. How fair 

Was all the earth ! The opening year 

Smoothed Winter's front ; the blue above 
Was depthless ; so the river near. 
Flowing, and giving back the love 
The soft skies, stooping, seemed embalming there. 

And so, because she was its queen. 
And since so fair the sylvan scene, 



132 POEMS. 

Her realm should be Arcadian, spy 

Sucli as was huntress Dian's : low, 
Some Yale where sparkling fountains plaj ; 
Where Helisson and Alpheius flow, 
Embraced by fringed banks of fadeless green. 

Such was her realm. Into her hand 
A favored courtier gave the wand 

She clasped. Trembling I stood afai-, 

Upon that face of gracious mould 
To gaze. To me as angels are 

Was she. My heart ! Shall it be told ? 
She willed that I should set this faded band ! 

Midst nymph and fairy shout I lay 
The crown of dewdrop sheen : away 

To dream ; when, oh ! from faltering Pride 

Is heard a winged mandate, flown 
To rev'ling subjects ; by her side 

Upwird she guides me ; on that throne, 
AYe Majesty's effusive paths essay. 

" Proud title should be hers ; some name 
Of true devotion — mine the same ? " 

" Be mine," I murmur, " true and bold. 

Capaneus dared, and so, for me, 
Be his ! " " And mine," she softly told, 
"Be mine, Evadne " — ah ! to see 
The sleeping embers 'neatli the eyelids flame ! 



LILY OF THE VALLEY. 

I'll brush this tear ! Well ! well ! each stem 
As withered as my hope ! no gem 

Of odorous dew reflects my gl nice I 

Up to its stained place of rest 
Consign it ! Let no future trance 
The Past's thick drapery molest I 
'Twas Hermione wore von Anadem ! 



LILY OF THE YALLEY. 

{Return of Happiness.) 



ity:,k»-o':] 



M 



|^M|sECAUSE the World so coldly seemed to 
ISip frown, 

'^W^ He thought him in the darksome vale 
^'o to hide ; 

^ff He gladly hastened there — he flung him 

down, 
And o'er his i^ast and hopeless future 
sighed. 

When O ! he spies beside the grassy mound, 
Whose close confine restrains the rill's dark 
thread, 



134 POEMS. 

A Lily of the Valley, too, had fonnd 

With some intent this spot its sweets to shed. 

O emblem of the modest, pure, sincere ! 

Art thou, too, strangely shrouded in some spell 
That keeps thee from each blooming, fair compeer 

To be with me an exile to the dell ? 

The Lily of the Valley gently bowed 

And gave from bounteous stores yet unconsumed. 
The evening zephyrs, hastening, went endowed 

And told afar the Lily yet perfumed. 

My home deep in the valley hath been made 
I uncomi^laining : and its depths disclose 

No answering tribute for my charms displayed— 
So in oblivion do my hours repose. 

But in its solitude I bloom content. 

Since haply, as hath thine, some step may wend 
Within its gloom, to find my beauty lent 

A quick reprieve where doubtings long contend. 

O Lily of the Valley, Avith new aim 

Let me the turmoils of the world engage ! 

For true submission win thy fragrant name, 
That mine, as thine, some happiest hour presage. 



SONNET. 



135 



SONNET. 



'^^^^M 




HERE is an attribute of nameless gauge 
That Stoic may repel, cannot refute ; 
Philosophy essay, nor yet compute : 
Its virtue this — perennial. Through 
each age 
It curbs the savage and corrects the sage, 
(Whose inconcinnities, whose schemes 
astute 
Corrupt their reasons), who esteem its fruit, 
"Which, if but plucked, matures at every stage. 
Man may protest, — he never can despise 

The tempting flavor of its wholesome cheer : 
If now unblest, yet blessed memories rise, 
And rise to soothe, be v/hatsoe'er his sphere. 

Its home, the heart ; its beacon-fire, the eyes. 
Affection 'tis — that gift without compeer. 



136 



POEMS. 



TO MYSIE. 



(With the Rosebud.) 



— — ^T^L 




ITHIN thy hair 

Tills rosebud bear : 
Let It thy many dream - 
lugs share : 
Though it be now the young 
and glistening morn, 
Far up the heated day let it 
be borne. 
If joyous, thou wilt have to spare ; 
If sorrowing, tell tli^ secret care — 
But love it everywhere. 



In early night 

When glances bright 

Are sped to measures of delight, 

Or mingled with a language low intoned. 

Still be it on its favored seat enthroned. 

Then hours, by some presumptuous right. 
Will, too, make pastime of their flight — 
Yet, still, its love invite. 

O Whisper deep ! 
When thou shalt sleep 
Place it where angers watchings keep : 



ARSINOE. 

And that shall be— where 'tis reposing now 
In ripening beauty — o'er thy blushful brow^ : 
And Night- wdnds, gazing as they sweep. 
Back to its uncuUed mates shall creep, 
And, envious, they shall weep. 



^37 



AESINOE. 

[Cffisar brought Arshioc to Rome ; but, feeling com- 
passion for the youthful princess, restored her to free- 
dom. — O. Com.] 

EAR Rome, in its splendor, the day is 
; declining ; 

They have led forth the fair Alexan- 
drian maid : 
There she rests, like some statue, in 
pensive repining, 
Gazing deep down in Tivoli's foam- 
ing cascade. 

They mercifully leave her ; so, kindly befriending, 
They mercifully leave her, O unspeakable bliss ! 




138 POEMS. 

There they leave her alone, with emotions con- 
tending ; 
Nor could friendslii]j devise kinder favor than 
this. 

Above her are palaces, loftily towering 

In settings of glittering, nnmatched colonnades; 
But she heedeth them not — 'tis in Tivoli's shower- 
ing 
That her soul seems enwrapt — 'midst the bright 
rainbow shades. 

O'er its olive-clad rampart she bends in her dream- 
ing. 
Now some thought, for its recompense, wins a 
faint smile : 
She hath seen in rude Tivoli's torrent, far gleam- 
ing* 
Some resemblance that mocks her own languish- 
ing Nile. 

Oh, unhappy transition ! 'tis the tempest fore- 
telling 
Of tears and of sighings woukl she now might 
restrain. 
For her thought on the deed of the morrow is 
dwelling, 
When, to grace the great triumph, she wears 
captive chain. 



ARSINOE. i-.^ 

" Can he ever be thus? bears that heart no relent- 
ing ? 
O, lead me to Cjiesar, I will deign to implore : 
He will weep in compassion, then in j^ity consent- 
ing 
Say, 'tis sweeter, far sweeter, than triumph in 
store." 



'Tis by Kome : and again as the day is declining. 
Far adown gushes Tivoli's foaming cascade. 

And the one that dreams there, nor yet dreams of 
repining, 
Is the fair and nnshamed Alexandrian maid. 



5^^K2>>[>§-- 



140 



POEMS. 




SONNET. 

W^ Wi HEjN on my brief existence I reflect, 
There seemetli made a safer path 

oi joy 
Than idly resting, and the hours 

employ 
With thought of past and future, 
detect, 
If I of dearest times past recollect, 

A shadow mingling in unasked alloy — 
'Tis that they are no more : and, if I toy 
With those that yet await me, I suspect 
Inquiet longings. But, if I secure 

In present hours do their good exact 
My happiness is husband'd to endure. 
And through my life I blessings may protract : 
By this, it seem'th to me, my hours assure 
Tranquillity the others surely lacked. 



•-^t"><2*<^^oO€"^ 




THE MATINS BELL. l([l 

THE MATINS BELL. 

HE matins bell ! awake, Sleeper, awake ! 
Ere sliall be heard 
^ The first shrill signal of awakening bird, 
y(^\ If thou hast err'd, 

''k) ^^^* ^^^ ^'^^® breaking morn thyself be- 

t take ! 

The matins bell ! its music asks, Why doubt ? 

It claims thy j^rayer ; 
The sky's aflame ; dews gleam ; 'neath it repair, 

And, trustful, bear 
'Midst earth's uplifted praise, thy prayer devout I 

Its melodies have died ; its tongue is still'd. 

Wiirt come again ? 
O pr'ythee, ere the sun gild spire and pane, 

Annul that stain ; 
And walk the day, thy soul with raptnre fiil'd ! 



<-^^0<2*^«2>oi>^- - - 



142 



POEMS. 



EPIGEAM. 

(Enforced absence.) 
TO . 



||pl|ji;ND can it be 

^i^ylol''^ That Time conspires to stay his 

gf^Wl flio-ht, 



77\ 



ml 



%l\\^ ^^^ change for me, 



"•^il(s| The blessings of the grateful light 

'» To that doth so resemble night ? 

Ask some pale flower, 
Transplanted from the sun and dew. 

If sweet the hour ? 
No ! No ! 'twill cry, and weej^ anew. 
I am that flower transposed from you. 



--^<D^^2^ps^K5>#- — • 




SONNET. 143 

SONNET. 

OME, doubter, climb with me yon dizzy 
peak. 



Thy gaze to'rd distant ocean first be 

bent : 
Then nearer, scanning Nature's wide 

extent, 

And what behokl'st ? "Bright riv- 
ulets that eke 
That ocean ; in woods of vocal tone seek 

Happiest inmates ; of wondrous hue and scent 
Bloom beds of flowers ; the fields, in colors 

blent, 
Stretched to immensity. All good bespeak ! 
Some hand to deftly limn these do attest. 

Too, of exhaustless skill ; these proof upbear 
Of intellect untold. Whose hand else drest 
The wave in silver, decked the hued parterre, 

Or taught the rhythm the vocalist expressed?" 
Such handiwork an All- Wise doth declare. 



-^^<3<<2s^sI>o{>^-^- 



J 44 



POEMS. 



SONNET. 




ip) Ip^l'^ INE ears drink in tliy soul-outpouring- 
lay, 
Thou love-lorn Nightingale ! Me- 

thinks so, erst, 
Tliy spell came o'er me, and, by 

memory nurs'd 
E'en till this hour. Over Sorrento's 
bay, 
Wrapt in the mellowest tints of dying day, 

I hung with many musings. As 't did thirst 
For deepest sympathy, thy plaintings burst 
Upon the evening's stillness, 'died away, 
And left me marvelling. This summer-time 

Thou mad'st thy flight, — from Tasso's by ways 

woo'd, — 
And tell'st thy sorrows in a sterner clime. 
See, Philomela, earth again endued 

With much thou lov'st, with emerald fields 

and thyme, 
Then leave me not in more than solitude ! 



— K^K2-<2a^'S>{>#-> • 



TO A SUNBEAM. 



145 




TO A SUNBEAM. 

HOU trembling, molten beam 
Fresh from the fount of light ! 
^ Didst thou leap the mighty span, 
'Scai^e the chill and vaporous 
blight 
To sink with uncorroded gleam 
Upon the slumbering earth, 
And warm, again, her face so wan 
With hopes of spring-time birth ? 

Yet, tell me ere thou sink, 

And fetters thee enfold, 
In those spaces unrevealed, 

In those fastnesses untold, 
Dost thou of others else bethink 

In thine own bright attire ? 
And will they not there stay concealed 

If thou so soon expire ? 

Soft ! sunbeam, thou slialt know 

What answer 'tis I crave, — 
Now into my breast there came 

With the glow thy presence gave, 
A hope ; its beaming cheers me so 

I'd keep it long delayed. 
But if none other bear thy name 

I fear it, too, may fade. 




146 . POEMS. 

SONNET. 

J2^PKEAD o'er the South, of balmiest gale» 
and bloom, 
There flowers a shrub that seems 

the veriest pledge 
Of beauteous constancy. If noxious 

sedge 
Encompass it, unmindful of the 
gloom 
With the weird fen's it mingles its perfume. 

The traveller, fainting at the wayside's edge, 
Shall not forget it : o'er the frowning ledge 
It waves undaunted. Nor did he presume 
Who in a burning and remotest land 

Hailed it, " O pride of India !" Oft for me. 
Pausing 'midst scenes all-lovely, memory 
sj)ann'd 
Eventful days and Nature's marquetry. 

And thou stood'st with me, Julia, and I plann'd 
What kinship bore this Pride of Inde to thee. 




A TRIFLE IT WAS, AS LIGHT AS THE AIR. 147 

A TKIFLE IT WAS, AS LIGHT AS THE 
AIR. 

( TRIFLE it was, as liglit as the air 

(And often and oft to recall it I've 
m^iTa^ tried) 

>^| klV That lost me forever a maiden fair, 
^•{U And that banished my promised bride. 

> In time it was even, and calm and still, — 

Would our passions might sleep in such deep 
content, — 
And we stood by the crystal, laughing rill. 
And our tones with its murmuring- blent. 



A trifle it was, as liglit as the air, — 

Ah, thou en\ious sxiirit — genius of Hate ! 

Why bring me so grievous a burden to bear ? 
Why lay on my heart this leaden weight ? 

Of the years to come, and the years but flown, 
We had spoken and planned 'midst the starlight 
showers : 

She seemed even dearer and more my own 
For the future seemingl}'- ours. 

O the sweet delight of those starlight dreams ! 
What a mockery, too, of my ceaseless grief ! 



148 POEMS. 

Then life flowed as tranquil as those soft beams 
That lodged in her odorous wreath. 

Some trifle it was, as light as the air : 

But whether it was I or my own dear love 

That changed life's bright day into night's despair 
Can she tell — or the stars above ? 

In a world so troubled it seems not right 

That fond lovers should part, and then not 
know why ; 

And that ties so strong from a cause so slight 
Should so weaken, and break — and die. 

Some trifle it was, as light as the air 

That the zephyrs wafted from Egypta's strand 

That tarried to toy with her fluttering hair, 
And her deepening blushes fann'd. 

And they say she waited — grew faint at heart : 
But that day I was proud, and I thought her 
cold. 

How I've sighed in vain, with miserly art, 
For the loss of that word untold. 

Some trifle it was, as light as the air, 
Disturbing life's waters that rested as clear 

As that crystalline lake called Leman, where 
The nightingale plainteth her fear. 



MV 31 ATE AND I. j^g 

I trust no shadow envelopes her hours ; 

And that life seems as fair as in those young 
days 
When we walked through the almost silent bowers 

With the cari^eting moonlight rays. 

Some trifle it was, as light as the air — 

And by each repented ere it onward sped :— 

To think that our lives should such shadows bear 
For a Avord — then a word unsaid. 



— -^;^-<j«5j^iir>or>^^__ 



MY MATE AND I. 



Y^$i 



\ E come, my mate and I, belate 



I i She wears a blossoming robe of state ; 
W^'' '^'^^' too, what wealth of bloom and 
^P health 

^-'^ She's borrowed from each flower and 
elf: 
Keleased from chains we saw the light 
Subdue the long, forbidding night. 



I50 



O, it was then so radiant when 
We heard the soul-outponring wren : 
" My joy be thine. O, come and twine 
In gay festoons each spraying vine ; 
The bellfiower sways, by airs caress'd ; 
The eglantine in beauty's drest !" 

In yonder glade we long delayed 

To note the spoil the Hybhean made. 

O, life of bliss ! wonld mine Avere this, — 

To every other care remiss, — 

To rove forever, and to sip 

The fragrance from the jessamine's lip ! 

We come, my mate and I, belate ; 
We but the morrow's coming wait : 
To call no need, for we shall speed, — 
Our pathway '11 be the flowering mead, — 
And shades shall even deeper lie 
Ere homeward we, my mate and I. 



— -^^^<<^-^--i>Ot^;-->-- 



THE BURIAL OF PIZARRO. 



THE BUKIAL OF PIZARKO. 



151 



[Pizarro, after an unprecedented career of conquest 
and cruelty, met the fate he so richly merited — the 
assassin's dag-o-er. The Cathedral of Lima (Ciudad de 
los Reges) was profaned hy placing his body beneath 
the altar.] 

'"""^'fejUDAD de los Reges ! 

\f Stand, for the coming dead ! 
fe^'sisp Onward the pageant rolls ; 

^ Deep-toned the minster tolls — 

, Stand ye who bled ! 

Cindad de los Reges ! 
Gentle mother, hear it ! 
Gone is the blighting breath 
From the bold scourge of D?ath — 
Greet'st thou that spirit ? 

Ciudad de los Reges ! ■ • 

O, rather bid them cast 
Him forth upon the earth 
Whose heaven he made a dearth — 
And sinks at last. 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 
Bounteous treasure extolled, 



152 



P0E3fS. 

He, all-athirst, allured 

By dreams of gain, endured 

All for our gold. 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 
More merciful, less fell 
Condor on yonder peak, 
That from liis fastness bleak 
Swoops to the dell. 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 
'Twas he — this son of Spain, 
Who left in blackened track 
Of iron hoof and rack 
Unnumbered slain. 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 

Thy Inca fetters bore 

Till death unbound the cluiin, 

Forged to the fearful strain 

Of battle roar. 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 
The father vainly kneel'd, 
And mother, for the child 
With piteous plea, and wild — 
His heart was steeled. 



THE BURIAL OF PIZARRO. 

Ciiidad de los Reges, 
The captive, too, implored — 
To meet the smile of Death ; 
And curse with fainting breath 
The name abhorred. 

Ciiidad de los Reges ! 
Bless'd mother, dost behold ? 
See! 'neatli the holy nave, 
And dome, and architrave. 
They bear his mould. 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 

What ! sleep beside the saint 

Whose hallowed life taught prayer ? 

Mingle his ashes there ? 

Their rest attaint ? 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 
Could then the vesper peal, 
Soothing the heart oi3press'd 
With ecstacy of rest, 
Invite to kneel ? 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 
Languish ^^ould every tongue ; 
Pallid grow every brow ; 



153 



154 



Falter the rising vow 
By augiiisli rung. 

Ciudad tie los Reges ! 

The 'bated cry didst hear ? 

' ' Back, menials ! from his path — 

Tempt'st thou his sleeping wrath ? 

The dead is near !" 

Ciudad de los Reges ! 
'Neath altar, echoing dome, 
With Desolation's blade 
Pizarro lowly laid ! 
O shamed home ! 



— -<g^O<55^a=?-[>€-^ — 




FALTERING. icr 



FALTEKING. 

HE nigLt, for promise spread, 
Lies darkly clouded : 
The river's throbbing thread 
Flows deeply shrouded ; 
The vault with starry gems engrained, 
The oVb that in her beauty waned, 

In gloom are dying ! 
For night and flood, for orl) and stars 
The winds are sighing. 



Blest harbinger to save, 

The gales are veering ! 
From flood and starry nave 
The mists are clearing ! 
The orb with beautous crescent dipp'd, 
The dancing wavelets, silver-tipp'd, 
Are ever vieing. 
Within my soul, O constancy, 
Dream not of dying ! 



-^^<5X^^^i>o{>^^ 




156 POEMS. 



SONNET. 

had I planned tliy steps thou 
sliouldst not go. 
Thou canst not soothe me with the 

fond deceit 
That in some hast'ning year our iDaths 
shall meet, 
And joy be sweeter for this parting woe 
Than we have known — and else can never know. 
How sunless is thy smile's poor counterfeit ! 
And fainter grows thy heart's tale-telling beat ! 
This were not didst thou truly believe it so. 
Well, I will hush this moaning heart and bruised, 
Nor picture summer days and thou not here. — 
Thou veil'st thine eyes, with manful tears suf- 
fused ; 
They say, when thou art gone thou'lt yet be near. 
Press, lightly press this hand as thou art us'd. 
Go, and remember fcliou art doubly dear. 



-<v^^Kx3i^>iEr>^xg^ — 



157 




dread 



aspect taught man 



SONNET. 

Assyrian monarch, to uphold his 
throne, 
Set it on man, carved in war's 

array. 
Whose threat'ninj 

to obey. 
That subject might not kindred awe 
disown, 
The Persian his, of gold and glittering stone, 
Upbuilt in crouching form of beast of prey : 
And millions cried allegiance — felt dismay, 
And curs'd a pride to impious excess grown. 
Beyond e'en these my Monarch's realm extends. 
My Master's state uprests on truth and love. 
O'er Asshur's grandeur desert-drift ascends,— 
My Master's mounts th' empyrean heav'n above: 
O'er Elam's buried pomp his lion wends, — 
High soars my Master's gentle symbol-dove. 



-'^^<y<Im^^?>>Q>^-o 




158 POEMS. 

THE DREAMERS, 

HIS cliild, in pleasant byways kept, 
And sees life an unchanging May, 
^ Forgot her mates ere sunbeam slept, 
And stole to me away. 

Upon my kindly face and grave 

She glanced, and then upon my knee 
Its rest her wearied head she gave, 
Half singing musingly. 

She very often seeks me so, — 
I think because my face is grave : 

She thinks I'm busied with the gloAV 
That silvers o'er the Avave. 

That on some orb my thought is set: 
So, struggling with its quaint conceit, 

And busied so must needs forget 
The dreamer at my feet. 

And so she sings, or murmurs o'er 

Some fancy I have given tone ; 
And murmurs it to love it more 

And make it more her own. 



THE DREAMERS. 

Than all the j^leasant hours are 
There is an hour endeared to me — 

When fancy leaves the wave and star 
For dreamer at my knee. 

As thus : what devious paths — say fair — 
Of leagues untold its feet must tread ! 

Where shall it then, oppress'd with care . 
Thus lay its drooping head ? 

Will joy be her unbroken task 

(Such as to be these hours she finds), 

And shall she but in sunshine bask 
Until her day declines ? 

Shall thought beneath this shining brow 

To images of beauty turn ; 
Or fan a flame that slumb'riug now 

Needs but a breath to burn ? 

Shall this fair hand, all zeal, engage 
To do the mandates of the heart ; 

And trace the ever-living page 
With Poesy's deathless art ? 

Or shall she, nameless, walk serene 
To shed abroad her woman's grace, 

And bring contentment to the scene 
That's most a woman's place ? 



»59 



l6o POEMS. 

"Wonlcl Heav'n for me— Heav'n stay the prayer ! 

'Twere best that thought no uttr'ance gave ; 
'Twere best it now from dreamer bear 

Its dreaming to the wave. 



ON CONTENTMENT 

Horace : Ode 1, Book 3. 

^QEEOM him of low desires, iincared to 
rise, 



"Sfe^ "»N^ My soul revolts — from him I turn my 

pm eyes. 

j|^ In silence listen, words unheard be- 

ih^ fore, 

*• Ye youths and virgins, in your ears I 

pour. 
Dread sovereigns o'er their subjects have control ; 
The kindred giants Jupiter extol, 
"Who with his nod the realm of Nature shakes, 
And at whose glance the haughtiest Titan quakes. 
Because, forsooth, this man in goodly row 
Beholds in thrifty bloom his forests grow. 



ON CONTENTMENT. jgj 



He lays liis claim to nurture well tlie state : 
The second protests— argiies happier fate 

From him within Avhom growing honor lies 

And his own worth and virtue loudly cries : 

The third prefers his right— to long contend 

And boast how myriads on his store depend. 

But Fate, by all-impartial, 'fixed laws, 

Eevolves the urn, each name unbiased draws. 

How can that man his revelling hours enjoy 

When hangs a point with puipose to destroy ? 

Can the Sicilian dainties relish bring 

If o'er his brow the deadly dagger swing ? 

The tuneful lyre, the birds with soothing songs 

Bring not the soft repose for which he longs. 

Sleep to the peasant is a frequent guest, 

And in his cottage loves to linger best : 

If at the dawn he fly his barless doors. 

At eve returns from Tempe's zephyred shores. 

He with a competence, assur'd, possess'd. 

Views the tempestuous sea— nor feels distress'd: 

Arcturus in his wrathful fury sets, 

Yet, in his heart no anxious doubt begets. 

No vineyard he to tempt the ruthless hail ; 

No waving fields to droop before the gale ; 

No fruitful lands, with bounteous rains sul:)merged, 

Or else liy rays from fiery planets scourged. 

The swift finn'd tribes, that mighty waters range. 



162 POEMS. 

Behold the sea's foundations ever change ; 
And k)rdly man, disdainful of the land, 
Sends down the chosen hirelings of his band : 
Yet apprehension ne'er forsakes his mind — 
Care mounts the galley as the knight behind. 
Since then, nor Phrygian block, nor gay attires. 
Bring the contentment that my soul desires ; 
Falernian vine, nor yet the Persian herb 
Drown not the troublings that my hours disturb, 
Shall I some lofty edifice erect, — 
Since I the breath of envy must expect, — 
With peerless column, modern taste adorned, 
To hear my niotive and its beauty scorned ? 
Why give contentments of my Sabine Vale 
For troubles oft ]30ssessed wealths entail ? 



— ^-^<}o<2^ps2:K5>#- — 




TO THALIARCHUS. ,5^ 

TO THALIAECHUS. 

Horace : Ode 9, Book 1. 

sEHOLD Soracte clad in sdows ; 
I The woods their leafy burdens cast ; 
Nor longer on the river floAvs — 

Frost's icy sharpness binds it fast. 
Dispute the cold : pile high the blaz- 
ing boughs ! 
O Thaiiarchus, forget not your vows ! 
To cheer the coming youths afar 

The cheerful flames now upward twine. 
Now, Thaiiarchus, from the jar 
Pour out the generous, ruby wine. 
Leave to the gods the vexious ills of life : 
Think you no more must mingle in the strife. 
When winds the fervid ocean lash 

The vales in peace repose, 

The cypress and the aged ash 

Forget their coming woes. 

To ask the morrow's hap forbear : 

Treasure this hour's unquestioned gain : — 
Come, fill the cnp,— nor think to share 
This draught with any future pain. 
Joys of the young, O pleasant love and dances, 
Abide with us, affrighting Time's mischances ! 



1 64 POEMS. 

As on the mellow hours glide, 

The song and whisper oft repeat — 
As in the hour of eventide 

Where Tiber laves our Martius' feet. 
Give you no heed whence sweetest echo wends, — 
Well with the mirth coy damsel's laughter blends. 
He'd seize some token from her arm, — 

Since eye in vain appeal'd, — 
What hour so fit to win a charm, 
Contending love would yield ? 



TO QUINTIUS DELLIUS. 

HoKACE : Ode 3, Book 2. 



•«®. 

^ 



m^^ 
W 



DELLIUS, repel not from your mind 
That life, a dream, by you must be 

resigned. 
Since this is so, your stores of joy ex- 

I If you bethink its changings to with- 

j stand : 

Do not shrink under Fortune's angry frown, — 
The fruitful germ the husbandman cast down, 



TO QUINTUS DELLIUS. 165 

Which, lying hidden long in deepest gloom 
Sprang forth, bore fruit, and gladdened with its 

bloom : 
Nor yet, if viewing some unhoped result, 
Think o'er your friend, less happy, to exult. 
If nurturing sadness in remotest spot, 
Or, if to pleasure gods your hours allot 
And lead you on to some inviting vale 
"With ease and wine your hours to regale. 
While you recline within some grateful shade, 
The lofty pine and hoary poplar made, 
And uj^ward gaze as sunny cloudlets flit, 
Or drink with rapture from the rivulet. 
It is decreed, and these change not your fate — 
Our hours the coming Sisters but await ! 
Bid slaves bring wine, perfumes of wondrous cost: 
Not for a future let this day be lost. 
"Think, Dellius, depart, and soon, you must ; 
With you your treasures crumble not to dust. 
O no ! a longing and impatient heir 
Makes them his waking and his sleeping care ; 
Surveys your villas and computes your groves, 
And, penniless, expectant master roves. 
It matters not if sprung from humblest race, 
Whose ancestors no ancient records trace ; 
Nor yet could Argos claim thy noble sire — 
Prom this fair scene you surely shall retire. 



1 66 POEMS. 

All are alike — unsheltered from the air ; 
And envious Pluto takes all for his share. 
Remorseless Fates yet turn the restless wheel, 
And Atroj)os yet grasps the severing steel 
Too soon to cut the unresisting thread — 
Forth from the breast the living spark hath fled I 
Our destiny — born, linger here a while ; 
Embark with Charon for a long exile ! 



TO LICINIUS MURENA. 

HoKACK : Ode 10, Book 2. 






9JrUM |f ICINIUS, life's ocean you may tempt, 
h i h. fl ^ If you with prudence shall its paths 
explore. 
Guide not your bark where perils ne'er 
exempt, 
Nor yet, too timorous, press the threat- 
ening shore. 

There is a path, in it you safely dwell — 

The placid current 'twixt the chafing strands ; 

The virtuous mean that shuns the hermit's cell, — 
Nor asks the i^alace envied greatness plans. 




TO LI CI NI US MURENA. 167 

Th' aspiring pine met first tlie whirlwind's rage ; 

The loftiest tower fell heaviest to the dust ; 
The tempests first opposing mounts engage, 

And deep within their forked lightnings thrust. 

Discerning souls hope on whilst least they may, 
And banish hope when most they hold the right; 

The taper pales its beams before the day, — 
To shine tlie clearer at the hastening night. 

Depressing Winter, with his hoary train, 
Great Jupiter sends forth — to soon recall ; 

Though luckless venture now deny you gain. 
No kindred fate your future's may befall, 

Apollo lulls him with Euterpe's art. 

And drinks the trarisj)orts of the modest Muse ; 
He flings aside his bow aad cruel dart, 

Whilst in his breast her softest strains diffuse. 

Bring forth your treasures wlien you need your 
friend ; 

And happiest be wlien happiest thoughts avail. 
'Twere best, Licinius, when the sails extend 

To watch for changings of the prosperous gale. 



168 



POEMS. 



OUT ON THE MYSTIC SEA. 
I. 



"^ 



5is±5k 



,» UT on tlie mystic sea 

Far, far from me ; 
~^^ Down, doAvn a sunset sea by zephyrs 
fann'd — 

Cradled to sleep. 
When from the west the ruddy wave- 
lets flow, 
When at the eve the dying tintings glow, 

Thy trysting keep ! 
A cry, a wafture of a jewell'd hand— 
Out on the mystic sea 
Lost, lost to me ! 



Over the mystic sea 
The false-rose came to me ; 
A lowering, sunless sea it came across. 

Its bloom distiird : 
A love that's yet unpledg'd another woos ! 
In warmer strain than thine another sues ! 

My heart was chill'd. 
Back ! haste thee back, where mocking wavelets 
toss — 

Back to the moaning sea — 
Dark'ning to me ! 



our ON THE MYSTIC SEA. 



HI. 



169 



Up from the mystic sea 

The heart's ease came to me ; 
A melting, sunset sea 'twas wafted o'er — 

To lull my fears : 
I breathe of thee to each departing wind ; 
I bathe this emblem to the waves consigned, 

With Love's own tears ! 
Than this, so gladdening missive never bore 

The wondering sea — 

Heark'ning to me. 



5^pS2K>^~ 



170 



^^ 



POEMS. 

TO GROSPHUS. 

Horace •. Ode 16, Book 2. 




GROSPHUS, luckless is the mau allur'd 
To the wide ^gean, night's bright orb 

obscur'd. 
With not one star the hidden course to 

mark 
And promise safety to his tossing bark. 
In such dark hours his heart one refuge 
knows — 
To pray the gods for s ifety and repose. 

So, for repose the war-worn Tiiracian cries ; 
And 'tis for this the quivered Median sighs — 
To find, alas ! the gift is not secure, 
Nor sword nor ransom yet its charms procure : 
Nor princely bribe, nor deputy can bind 
And banish tumult from the burdened mind. 
For peace that man a good foundation lays 
Whom yet delights the board of humbler days. 
For sordid wishes plenteous vaults to lieaj) 
Mar not his day, nor trespass on his sleei^. 
Why do we, by our arrogance mislead. 
Hoard up a store that others use instead ? 
Why fly our climate, 'neath another sun 
Begin a task, to vanish ere 'tis done ? 
Whoever yet from country an exile 



TO GROSPHUS. 



171 



Persuaded Care to linger home the while ? 
He would not listen. Care, consuming Care 
Boards, too, his shij), and will his exile share : 
Than stag more fleet, or yet the Orient's wind, 
Care soon o'ertakes him, though delayed behind. 

A mind at rest, and joyful for its state. 
Asks for no more, and thanks the watchful Fate. 
In patience walks the fiery hours of trial ; 
And views correction with a placid smile. 
And feels how true it is, how oft express'd 
That not with life is man completely bless'd. 
Achilles died — nor yet for death mature ; 
Tithonus lived — but youth could not endure ; 
And time may me from countless ills defend, 
And yet to you no courtesies extend. 
For, now, towards you the waves of fortune flow — 
Flocks loudly bleat, Sicilian heifers low ; 
Your steeds in costly traj^pings swiftly fly ; 
And vestured you in robes of Tyriau dye. 
But Fate my arts have never yet suborned — 
She found me lowly, keeps me unadorned. 
Yet this she grants, more prized than robe of 

down, — 
A secret spurning for the rustic's frown : 
And this besides, — than this I would not choose, — 
A silent hour with the Grecian Muse. 



172 



POEMS. 



EXQUISITE DKAPEEIES HANGING IN 
THE WEST. 



(JTJNE THE T^^'ENTY-SECOND. ) 









J5 XQUISITE draperies hanging in the 
west, 
^■^a Of pui'i^le, yellow, and the warmest red. 
Long journeyed he who burning sank to 
rest. 
J "Tell me, what day is this so sweetly 

J dies ? 

Comes such another ? Too, too soon 'tis sped !" 
In answer whisper, whilst the soft, dark eyes 
Break from the colorings of the western skies, 
*' Year's longest, fairest, happiest day is dead.'* 



>-^^mI>=Q>%^ 



THE HOURS. 



^7i 



THE HOURS. 

HERE is an all-enraptiiring liour — 
When morn (the sea and sky ascencl- 
^ ing 

Since rousing from his Orient bower) 
AVith a more constant hue seems blend- 
ing. 
The ruddy hour is youth — when joy 
At childhood's every prayer comes thronging. 
The change — when ripening years alloy 
With promise of a worthier longing. 




There is an hour — the full noon hour — 

With myriad forms the ocean whit'ning : 
That laugh at Tem^Dest's threatening power — 

Their present toil some future bright'ning. 
The scene responds to life : the forms 

At hazard with life's heartless ocean 
Are manhood's — heedless of the storms, 

And ardent for the wild commotion. 



There is an hour — a silent hour — 

That's sacred to the evening's shading. 

This sunbeam sighs that shadows lower ; 
With true submission this is fadiner. 



174 



POEMS. 



The too soon hour is age ; regrets 

Mayhap enfold with ceaseless thronging. 

The change — when drooping age forgets 
Its nearest for a worthiest longing. 



ON HIS OWN WOKKS. 

Horace : Ode 30, Book 3. 

^ CKOWN my finished monument. 
I^c. It shall endure though long be- spent 
The Northwind's unavailing power 
And the insidious, wasteful shower : 
Nor Years in unrelaxing might, 
Nor Seasons in recurrent flight 
Cast it with their destroying hands 

To mingle with the ruthless sands. 

I shall not die ; my better part 

Calls not for Libitina's art. 

AVhile priest and vestal shall ascend 

The Capitol, so long contend 

Successive ages to prolong 

Praises to my melodious song. 




I AM DYING, EG YPT, D YING. 1 7 r 

Where Aufidus with cheerful mirth 
('Twas thus he murmured at my birth), 
Leai)s o'er the plain with rapid stride ; 
Where Daunus' thrifty sons reside 
Shall it be said : By minstrel tongue 
Were softer measures never sung ! 
In wonderment that my refrain 
Can woo the coy ^olic strain. 
Melpomene ! the praise be thine, 
Since I may wear the Delphic vine. 



I AM DYING, EGYPT, DYING. 

(Antony and Cleopatra.) 

|- AM dying, Egypt, dying ! 
'<c Bend thee lowly to the sand ; 
^^ Soothe me with thy loving hand. 
(Stay, O Death, thou all-denying !) 
Of the thousand fond caresses. 
This, thy last, the damp brow presses. 

Dark'ning, Egypt, ever dark'ning ! 
Hast thou then no bitter tears — 




176 POEMS. 

Ere the hastening shadow nears ? 
Nearer, nearer to my heark'ning ! 
Where my fainting sense shall hear it 
Pour the fulness of thy spirit. - 

Fading, Egypt, day is fading ! 
Is it that Death's shadow creeps, 
That thy stricken spirit weeps '? 
Is thy torment in upbraiding. 
That the love of which thou gavest 
Brought dishonor to a bravest ? 

I am dying, Egypt, dying ! 
Quick ! the death-repulsing wine. 
Pledge, by all that love of thine, 
When thou seest me basely lying 
Thou wilt then, repelling sorrow, 
Thought of vanished greatness borrow. 



— ^-K>K2^^=iK>^ — 



SONNET. j-y 



SONNET. 

j^jlKllT times, on day of fervid Summer's 

l? ^J| reign,— 

J^^ When in sore anguish droop'd each 

''?|!\W thirsting i3lant 

ijeA As quite despairing,— then, behold, 

f aslant 

♦ The long drawn beams, tliat for no in- 

stant wane 

Until their fount yon glowing verge attain, 
Fall tiny streamlets, whose rich graces grant 
Keviving draughts for which the full fields pant, 
And new existence to the velvet plain. 

O healthful influence of the bursting shower- 
Scarce dim the sunshine, bring the earth relief, 
Lend each beam beauty, verdure darker green ! 
Must cloud hang o'er thee thus I'd have it lower : 
To thine own blessing spend its wholesome 

grief— 
And give the freshness of the sunshower scene. 



-^^O<2«|^2>o{>f-o 



I7S 



POEMS. 




TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE ABOUT TO 
ENGAGE IN CIVIL WAR. 

Horace : Ode 7 of the Book of the Epodes. 

\ HY, O impious men, tins haste ? 
Go ye forth again to waste 

Store of Roman blood ? 
Have ye not too oft bedewed 
Field and ocean's solitude 

With a crimson flood ? 

Shame upon ye that ye turn 

Not where men of Carthage spurn 

That ye long delay ! 
That yon Briton yet disdains 
Power of legion, nor in chains 

Treads your sacred way. 

Will ye give the Partliian joy ? 
That ye thus your swords employ 

Thrills him with delight : 
See ! he cries, our haughty foe 
Deals himself the deadly blow — 

Toj)j)les in his might ! 



TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE, dc. ijg 

Think ye ! in the brutish race 
Did ye ever, watchful, trace 

Deed like this defined ? 
Wolf and lion for the mate 
Show compassion — sjjend their hate 



■Give the answer, nor withhold : 
If by madness, crime, controll'd 

Or the restive arm ? 
All are silent ; faces pale 
Ere the guilty soul X3revail — 

Urging on to harm ! 

By a stern fatality, 
Eomans, must this ever be ! 

So, ye stand dismay 'd ! 
'Twas for this our Remus sank ; 
That the earth a torrent drank 

Fresh from brother's blade ! 



-^K><2^ 




iSo POEMS. 

HYMN. 

I. 

[r Y Lord, my guard, my watolier, and 
my guide. 
Thou ever present, ever faithful 
^^^ friend, 

Than thee what refuge have I else be- 
side ? 
Y'et I've no merit that can me com- 
mend. 

II. 

Doth not thy love from love like mine revolt ? 

I give thee chiding when I owe thee praise, 
Though grieved thou striv'st to mend each harmful 
fault. 

I wound thee in a thousand needless ways. 

III. 

I see thy wondrous X30wer. I know the hand 
That set the earth and heavens must be divine. 

The glittering hosts wheel on at thy command ; 
No will rebellious to thy wiU— save mine. 



HYMN. l8i 

IV. 

The deep-stirred ocean symbols forth thy wrath, 
And thunders but reverberate thy tone ; 

Thy glance would be the lightning's withering 
I)ath, 
And all revere thee — all save I alone. 



Thy generous gifts unstintedly are poured ; 

I them at morning, noon, and eve expect. 
I take these gifts — and pass thee unadored. 

Canst thou spare me and this, too, recollect ? 



VI. 



Down, down, sad soul, in thy humility ! 

A barren homage 'tis thou pay'st at best. 
How can He more extend his gifts to me ? 

Sink, head, upon the now tormented breast ! 



>^— 




[82 POEMS. 

ALTERA AND MAEIGOLD. 

EEGAL, royal Marigold, 
My secret I may not unfold ! 
When came the far-ontrnnning 

beams 
I broke me from my drowsy dreams ; 
I sought thee — of the dawning hour 
The proudest and the queeuliest 

flower. 

heartless, heartless Marigold, 
My dream of dreams shall not be told ! 

Thy blooming mates have called in vain : 

1 brushed them by in quick disdain. 
Stay ! stay ! cries sweetest Mignonette, 
Why these surpassing charms forget ? 
While Marjoram, in arts unlearned. 
Her thought in artless blushes burned : 
Nay ! echoed Amaryllis, nay ! 
Not from my splendor turn away ! 

And I : My eyes the dewy glance 

Of Marigold shall soon entrance ! 

O comrades of the summer field. 

Shall it the rapturous answer yiekl ? 

In semblance hers, too, doth there dwell 

A heart to love her lover well ? 

They mocked me ; vowed thee, Marigold, 

What I have found thee — cruel, cold ! 



SONNET: FOR JANUARY. 



183 



SONNET : FOE JANUAEY. 



"^^^ 




HE disen thralled and uncoriiipted band 
Sweeps down from chilling realms. 

Its store expends 
In one symphonioiis whole. The 

prospect blends : 
And lo ! the panoply by Grandeur 
planu'd, 

With moor reluctant to the swain's demand, 
In purity harmoniously lends 
An unmatched, surfaced tablet, that contends 
To take the tracings of the Master-hand. 
And thus the soul, by nobler, pure desires 
Its lavish or its meaner dress conceals 
By fairer asj^ect : and, new born, aspires 
To purjioses this fresh emotion yields. 

And all bewonder'd muses j^ast attires — 
And wondering, germs of excellence reveals. 



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[84 



POEMS. 




UNKECONCILED. 

WAS in the eventide 

She, wistful, ever tried 
To whisper what they said might 
be my name. 

They led me to her side 
With blanched face and flying 
stej). I came — 
To see her smile, and fold a lifeless frame, 
And be my name denied. 

It was a cruel blow. 

And when I told them so. 
They sadly smiled, and said, Mayhap 'tis well. 

But then how could thei/ know ? 
I, in fierce anguish turning, bade them tell 
How all-progressive time could break the spell 

Of my immortal ^\oe. 



'Tis well ?— I'll not beheve ! 

Such words shall never weave 
Attuned cords to suit my heart's refrain : 

Would that I might conceive 
The sun to sink forever 'neath yon plain, — 
So careless am 1 if he rise again, 

So deeply, deeply grieve ! 




SONNET. l3t 

SONNET. 

(To , with the Odes of Pindar.) 

Ijl^ HE Macedonian prince, his rage to sate, 
Gave up the Cadmean town to dread- 
-'t fill flame ; 

;fjN And thought by horrid act his foe to 

tame 

t And feed base pride ; unwitting* 

that, innate, 
In lowly hovel, so on throne of state 
There is a power in a worthy name. 
Such now before the monarch's reason came, 
And mercy show'd to grace his deed of hate. 
Whose wrought revulsion, and could pity urge ? 
It was our poet's — him thou'lt now peruse. 
Oft in my bosom waves of scorning surge, — 
Since men the evil, not the better choose, — 
To sink anon ; in kindlier aspect merge : 
'Tis Avhen upon thine honored name I muse. 



I 



[86 roEMS. 



INVOCATION. 

^liW>-° OLHYMNIA, sweet, meditative Muse, 
1B|I^^ Wilt thou forsake me ? Wilt thou, then, 
iV£/'-.'\^ reiuse 

,^ To fan within this breast the subtle flame 
1^^ With thy quick breath ? O rash, unfruit- 

^^V ful aim — 

To sweej) the strings when thou art far 
away, 
Hoping for strains responsive to the lay ! 
Thou art more near : in night's deep, silent hour 
Choosing to contemplate. Behold, thy power 
The flickering flame awaits ! Thou drawest near, 
And Poesy, exultant, quells her fear ! 
O, let thine own soft presence, 'till the dawn 
Presents the steeded chariot of the morn, 
Linger about me ! least he come, undimm'd. 
To note my lyre unstrung — my theme un- 
hymn'd. 



^'-^^XS^^f^^S^Cr^^ 



LINES. 187 



LINES. 

The sense of death is most in apprehension,"— M. for M. 

''^^^^ HEN wayworn and o'ertasked, 'tis well 
for tliee 



-iLLa^Tvy^ To cast thy frame on downiest of beds 
^i§^P While wafts the sj^irit o'er obliAdon's sea, 
4vw^ Or takes some path which it, delight- 

ed, treads. 
Did memory grieve — belike the grief 's 
forgot ; 
Thy hope high winging — yet it npward dares ; 
If thou art humblest — now it frets thee not ; 
And here is rest for him of weightiest cares. 
Wouldst thou withhold from sleejo's encircling 

arms 
Because it sought thee with uniDromised date ? 
Would wakefulness, environed by its harms, 
Not seem to thee by far a sterner fate ? 
Since death's a dateless sleep, Ave need not dread 
The dear employments of the liapi:)ier dead. 



-<gO<2S^^I>o{>€— 



POEMS. 



SONG. 




[Knight of the Twelfth Century.] 
t 

1^ Y king is proud : his fleur-de-lis 

Floats from liis foeman's loftiest 
wall. 



y\Nj^ Saint Louis is the brimming pledge 
In yon ancestral hall. 



My steed is proud : he gladly neighs 
His neck of gold in fealty curves ; 
He bears to list of knightly fray 
The mailed knight he serves. 



My heart is proud : for Beauty's sake 
I set this day a trusty lance. 

I die ; or on my breast I wear 
The loveliest flower of France. 



THE BATTLER. 

THE BATTLER. 



189 



"^^^BsM 




HE Battler gazed tlie table round, 

Then fell his heavy hand : 
!^,Now by the tomb and by the cross 

The Moor shall leave the land : 
I nightly vow it in my dreams ; 

I swear it when I waken : 
The infidel shall fly this realm — 

Toledo town be taken ! 

Then brighter grew each liegeman's eye, 

And darker grew each frown. 
As, breathing forth his haughty threat, 

The Battler sat him down. 
Dead silence reigned within the hall, 

As filled each ruby cup. 
Then right, then left, each grandee gazed, • 

And to his feet sprang u\i. 

Now in the name of our Castile, 

Now by thy kingly name. 
It was for this with ringing hoof 

My fiery charger came ! 
If thou speak'st truth, by plume and spur, 

The dusky Moor shall rue 
The hour he sx)urned his desert home 

And cross'd yon sea of blue ! 



[go 



POEMS. 



Deep, deep they drink : the Battler now 

Pushed far his chair of oak 
To clasp with iron clasp each hand, — 

'Twas thus again he spoke : 
Ere set of sun at morrow eve 

A puissant horde shall near ; 
They come to greet Toledo town 

With banner, strain, and sj^ear. 

Out boldly si^oke Gallicia's son : 

From snowy fastness, I : 
Than not to draw a freeman's breath 

'Twere better far to die ! 
We are a numbered band and brave. 

Nor long may stay the shock. 
But let us keep at morrow eve 

^Toledo's guardian rock ! 

'Tis well ! the Battler cries, 'tis death ! 

Get each man to his shrine, 
And ask, with fervid prayer, a charm — 

As I'll away to mine : 
I'll bid my charger to it straight — 

Deep in the wood confin'd. 
I speed a score of leagues this night 

Of beating rain and wind ! 



THE BATTLER. 

The vizor hides the burning eye ; 

He turns upon his heel — 
Across the court and swinging bridge 

Is heard the ringing steel. 
He flies ; and all unreined he knows, — 

That gallant steed he rides ! 
He'll bear the Battler to his shrine 

With long and trusty strides. 

On, on (so hours) 'neath roaring top 

Of leaf, and sighing bough, — 
That untired steed has checked his flight- 

The shrine's before him now. 
The Battler's hand's upon the door : 

What is't his eyes shall greet, 
That gives his eyes a softer light, 

His heart a quicker beat ? 

The Battler's little daughter 'tis. 

Deep hidden in the wold ; 
A menial's watchful care is she, 

With mother-care untold. 
He knows that she must sweetly sleep, — 

As when he's gazed before 
To lend his arm that ardent strength, 

A deadlier name to war. 



191 



[92 



POEMS. 



With folded arm yet ponders lie 

Where long the lashes rest ; 
Bends low to meet the rising prayer 

The parted lips express'd : 
' ' Jesu, when in the lonely night 

The Battler rides afar 
That harm befall him not, I pray 

He be as angels are." 

A treacherous tear from Battler's eye, 

The rounded cheek alarms ; 
An instant — and that childish form 

Sways in the warrior's arms : 
* * * -x- * * 

Through darkling wood, thro' bridgeless stream 

Cries out a form of steel : 
Come forth with Battler, comrades all, 

We conquer for Castile ! 



LAKE AXD WILD- FOWL. jg3 

LAKE AND WILD-FOWL. 

tfi*^^^^ IGH ia the leaden skies, 



.' Darkening the icing lake, 

£*{|S^*"^ See, see the wild-foAvl rise ! 

^y\^ Knowest thou where 'tis he flies ? 

P|V AYliy he should me forsake ? 

I I have seen, I have seen down tlie 

lowering bky. 
White messengers flit on the blasts that a^vake ; 
And I go where the far-darting sunbeams yet lie, 
On the berrying brier and the ripening brake. 

List to the cry he gave ! 
Ere down the gale he wings ; 
Ere in the cloud he lave, 
Soaring above the wave, 
Wliat is the dirge In^ sings ? 

Fare ye well, fare ye well, thou Avert dear to my 

heart : 
Then I laved in your ripples and deep, flowing 

springs, — 
Now cold art thou grown ; I in sadness depart, 
For my everglade home — where the trailing moss 

clings. 

13 



194 



POEMS. 

High in the leaden skies, 
Darkening the icing lake, 
See my Inconstant rise ! 
Care I not where he flies, 
So he can me forsake. 



'^^w^<i^:H?i>'L r^- 



THE BATTLEFIELD. 

(Gettysburg.) 

■M^ff WALKED the battlefield,— a smiling 
'M'lr^^l ■'._ plain 

'<sr:/^l\' With Autnmn's many tints now all 
IB" aglow, — 

Where lay the anguished, the nnnnm- 
; i^ bered slain — 

I Where spread the awful pageantry of 

woe. 



A hero of the strife, with 'bated breath, 

Told of the days of mighty fears and lioi)es : 

With finger traced the carnival of Death, 
Held on the tablet of those hills and sloi)es. 



THE BATTLEFIELD. iq- 

It is a goodly scene ; the eye delights 

To rove from plain to distant wooded side. 

It finds no foeman on the misty heights, 

Whence burst the flaming, all-destroying tide. 

And, as along the crests and vales we strayed, 
Whence grew a grateful Nation's fond renown, 

Spoke of the nameless dead — in deeds array'd ; 
Or paused upon the hill's encircled crown. 

And so they perished not ; their honored fates, 
Graved on the shaft, is that of battle-stain : 

The stainless marble to a world relates, 

Of honored dead that have not died in vain. 



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I' I N I S 



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